


Wrong Number

by Blissymbolics



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Abuse, Discussion of Drugs & Alcohol, Gay yearning, Health Anxiety, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Myra violates HIPAA, Phone Sex, Pre-Canon, Slurs, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:08:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 54,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22989868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blissymbolics/pseuds/Blissymbolics
Summary: May 6, 2015, 3:45PMRichie’s phone buzzes twice. An unknown number, an anonymous icon.'Did you just call me?' the message reads.It could be a scam. It probably is. But he still types out a quick reply:'No sorry'Three grey bubbles appear, indicating someone tapping away on the other end. Not a scam then. If it were a bot then the entire reply would be copied and pasted.'Ok never mind, it was just spam. Sorry'
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 294
Kudos: 1175





	1. May 6

**Author's Note:**

  * For [samansucks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/samansucks/gifts).



**May 6, 2015, 3:45PM EST**

E: Did you just call me?

R: No sorry

E: Ok never mind, it was just spam. Sorry

R: Wait they called you from this number?

E: Yeah but don't worry they didn't steal your identity or anything. It's just this new shitty thing they do where they generate a random number with a local area code and use it as a mask. And since there's only so many numbers it usually corresponds to a real one

R: Wow that is shitty

E: Yeah I know. This is the second one I've got today

R: I just never pick up

E: Yeah me neither. But I'm waiting for some results from my doctor and HIPAA won't let him email anything

R: Yeah I hate that

R: Well good luck. Hope you get negatives across the board

E: It's not that big a deal. Just routine testing stuff. One of those things where they don't even bother calling you if there's nothing wrong

R: Then I bet you're glad I just turned out to be an involuntary accomplice in some insurance scam

E: I mean I figured as much since you have a Brooklyn area code but my hospital is farther up north. But you know, sometimes they send samples out to remote labs so I just wanted to make sure

R: Fair enough. How many days til the response window expires?

E: Three more

R: Well good luck. Hope everything works out

E: Thanks

E: And sorry again


	2. May 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **IMPORTANT** This doesn't translate from the social media format very well, but if a line is crossed out it means the character wrote it in the typing box but decided not to send it

**May 10, 2015, 1:09PM EST**

E: I didn't get any results by the way

E: God sorry for texting you again. That was really inappropriate

R: No you're good!

R: I'm glad you're ok

R: ~~Thanks for not letting me worry~~

R: Take care

**9:04PM EST**

R: Hey what's the time again for the HBO meeting tomorrow?

R: Sorry! I meant to send that to someone I work with

E: All good


	3. May 11

**May 11, 2015, 2:55PM EST**

E: Hey did you pretend to accidentally text me last night just to show off that you had a meeting at hbo?

R: ~~It was either that or a dick pic~~

R: No you were honestly just at the top of my messages

R: And for the record there are a lot of people with really boring jobs who work at hbo

E: Yeah sorry, I didn't actually think you sent it on purpose. I just drove past their offices on my way to work and thought about it

R: Too bad I wasn't there. I'm a couple thousand miles west. I've been to the NY branch though

R: Also what the fuck you drive in Manhattan?

E: Would you block me if I said I found it cathartic?

R: You'd have a great time in LA then

E: Yeah from what I've heard I think riding the 405 would be my version of free therapy

**6:19PM EST**

R: Just got out of a 45-minute traffic jam. Thought it was an accident. Turns out a drunk guy parked in the middle of the lane to take a nap

**6:27PM EST**

E: How'd they get his car out?

R: Police pulled him out then drove his car off the closest ramp

R: You'd really write this off as therapy?

E: Sometimes it's therapeutic to get angry about things that don't matter

E: I'm actually stuck in traffic right now. Can't figure out if it's an accident, a protest, or another flash mob

R: You're still in traffic? But it's 6:33 over there

E: I usually don't leave work til 6

R: Hope the Manhattan salary is worth it

R: I usually work nights

E: Oh yeah, doing what?

R: Call center. Dialing random numbers and scamming strangers. Befriending them so I can figure out their security questions 

E: Sorry I can't remember my mom's maiden name so you're out of luck

R: Damn. Can you give me your routing number anyway? Just so my boss won't get on my ass for wasting so much time on you?

R: But I actually did work in a call center once. I'm really dating myself here but it was back before they bumped the minimum wage up to $5.85

E: Yeah I had a few of those jobs. What kind of call center?

R: Medical insurance

E: Wow why'd you ever leave?

E: Just to clarify, I'm obnoxiously sarcastic

R: I mean you're from New York so I figured

R: But yeah it was my day job for 5 months

E: Worst caller?

R: Um...

R: One time I got a call from a guy who screamed at me because we sent him a letter denying him coverage for genital warts. But here's the thing, he wasn't mad because we denied him coverage, but because his 9-month pregnant wife apparently read his mail and figured out he was hooking up with call girls. I switched his account over to his work address and left it at that

E: Yeah I never did the call center thing, but from what I've heard it's a breeding ground for party stories

E: Some of the funniest people I know worked there

E: But my worst job was this internship between junior and senior year. It was paid but after rent it barely left me with laundry money. There were about thirty people in the office and half of them were drunk at any given time. This was a fancy ass firm on Wall Street but every time I went into the bathroom at least one of the stalls had puke on the floor

R: I definitely have more horror stories to share but hey aren't you driving?

E: I pulled over to get coffee. The meter's almost out though

R: I'll let you go then. Have a good night


	4. May 12

**May 12, 2015, 12:47PM EST**

E: So did you move from NY to LA? Or did you just steal a phone from someone in Brooklyn?

R: Hey I could've inherited it from a friend or something

R: But no I lived there for a long time before moving out here. Bought my first cell back in '99

E: Ok sorry if I'm being weird, but if you bought it yourself you were probably at least 18, making you at least 34 now. That check out?

R: You should write for the SAT

R: But yeah you're right on the money

E: That actually makes me feel better. I mean I obviously didn't think you were a kid or anything but it's nice knowing you're at least old enough to remember when dial up was invented

R: I can do you one better than that. I remember when CDs were invented. I'm 39

E: 38

R: Y chromosome or X?

E: Y

R: I figured. Women don't respond to texts from strangers

E: Smart men don't either

**11:14PM EST**

E: Hey if I'm being annoying or weird you can tell me to stop. Or just stop replying. I'll get the message

R: What? No you're not being weird! I mean I don't know you but you seem alright. And I've met people online before. Never like this, but this is honestly less sketchy than some of the aol chatrooms I used to haunt

E: Thanks but seriously, you don't have to reply if you don't want to

R: I really don't mind

R: By the way what should I call you? You don't have to tell me your name or anything. Just something to list in my contacts

E: E is fine

E: You?

R: R


	5. May 13

**May 13, 2015, 12:43PM EST**

E: By the way how'd your hbo meeting go?

R: It was fine. Short. Just finalizing some contract stuff

E: Stop me if I'm wrong, but if you live in LA and work nights and have contracts with hbo I'm guessing you work in entertainment?

E: Just a shot in the dark

R: I could just be a caterer for night shoots

R: But no you're right. Serves me right for dropping so many breadcrumbs 

E: Sorry I know I keep stepping over lines

R: No you're good! It's not like I was censoring myself or anything

E: You don't have to tell me who you are. No offense but I probably wouldn't even know you anyway. I'm really bad at keeping up with stuff like that

E: Plus you might have some embarrassing stuff on your IMDb that you don't want anyone googling

R: Fuck you're intuitive

E: Hey at least you're successful enough to have an IMDb

R: That's one way of looking at it

R: What about you? You work in Manhattan but live farther up north. You work at least 9 hours a day and are kind of an asshole. Can I guess that you wear a suit to work?

E: Are we playing 20 questions now?

E: But yeah I wear a suit and I hate it. I dress like shit when I don't have anywhere to be

R: Are you at work right now?

E: Yeah, and my lunch break ended 5 minutes ago

R: You should get back to the water cooler then

**2:26PM EST**

E: You ever have days where you just feel gross? Mentally and physically?

R: Every goddamn day

**2:38PM EST**

E: I think I might have to go home

R: You feeling sick?

E: Yeah

E: ~~But I don't really want to go home~~

E: I've been having some weird health stuff lately. Probably nothing serious. It's just annoying

R: Related or unrelated to the stuff you got tested for?

E: Related. Or unrelated I guess since it all came back negative

R: So you don't know what it is?

E: No idea. That's the worst part

E: Probably just stress honestly. Half the people in my field get ulcers by 35

R: That checks out. My sister once had a 3-month long period that was entirely stress-induced. Shit like that is scary

E: Yeah I've been a neurotic hypochondriac for as long as I can remember so I've had my share of psychosomatic symptoms

E: Sorry I won't make you listen to my medical complaints. I hate how all people our age talk about are their kids and their health issues or some combination of the two 

R: Out here people talk about their divorces a lot. Especially the people in my age cohort

E: Yeah same over here

E: I miss being a kid again. Back when all we talked about were shitty movies and our classmates' sex lives

R: Yeah I miss it too

R: Yeah we did do that a lot, didn't we

R: But hey if you're not feeling good you should head home

E: Yeah I'm just packing up my shit

E: Thanks for talking

R: Thanks for having me

**10:32PM EST**

R: You have any plans this weekend?

E: Not really. I'm usually so tired from work that all I want to do is sleep

E: What about you?

R: No plans but I might go out tomorrow if I feel up to it

R: But hey I was thinking, and definitely feel free to say no to this, but if you're up for it maybe we could watch a movie or something? I mean stream something at the same time and text about it? Or call?

R: You ever do that with your friends? There'd be a rerun of blade runner or something at 10 on ABC and your parents wouldn't let you go over to your friend's house so you'd call each other and watch it together?

R: And yell at each other for eating chips too close to the receiver?

E: Sorry, that sounds like a good time but my wife is home right now and I haven't told her about this yet

R: Shit I'm sorry! That was way too far

E: No you're fine! I'd really like to do that sometime soon. I'll tell her about you soon, I just think she might freak out a bit if she found out I was texting a nameless guy I met through a marketing scam

R: I swear I'd tell you my name if it wasn't easily searchable

R: But I will tell you

R: Eventually

E: Hey my name's probably easily searchable too, you're not special

E: But no pressure to tell me. It's cool

R: ~~I want to tell you~~

R: But hey you never mentioned you were married! How long have you been together?

E: Together for four and married for two. Her name's Myra

R: Oh yeah? And what does she do?

E: She's a pharmacist 

E: By the way, I think I did do that when I was younger. Calling my friends and watching TV. And just being snarky little shits for 2 hours straight 

R: What kind of stuff do you watch now?

E: I'll usually check out whatever they throw all the awards at. But since I work 9 hours and commute for almost 3 I don't get around to watching much

E: I watch standup sometimes

E: It'd be nice if it was actually good

R: God you're so smart

E: Sorry I have to get ready for bed. I'll talk to you soon though

R: Shit I always forget it's three hours later over there

R: Yeah talk to you soon

R: ~~Goodnight~~


	6. May 14

**May 14, 2015, 7:20PM EST**

E: You decide if you're gonna go out tonight or not?

R: Probably not. I might just order Thai and watch something

E: There's really nothing worthwhile going on in LA on a Saturday night?

R: It gets repetitive after a while

R: And the free coke isn't as appealing now that I can afford it myself

R: Not that I do stuff like that

R: Not regularly at least

E: Hey I've no right to judge. I knock back enough pills to stock a candy store

E: And I work near wall street where you can get coke delivered to your office like pizza. I'm surprised they don't have an app for it by now

R: Yeah I think your people and my people are single-handedly keeping the market alive

R: But I'm really getting too old for that shit. The hangovers just aren't worth it

E: Is it possible to have fun at an LA party without getting completely loaded?

R: If it's possible then no one's been stupid enough to try it

R: And I feel like an asshole for saying this, but I'm kind of at a level where I can't really trust that the people I'm talking to have any personal interest in me

R: Sometimes this place feels like a job fair that never ends

E: Are you seriously suggesting that sometimes people in Hollywood are fake?

R: Yeah and I'm obviously a unique snowflake who's 100% authentic all the time

E: I'm sure you're fine

E: Was NY really any better though?

R: Yeah I think it was. I'm probably just romanticizing it but at least in NY it felt easier to meet people outside the industry. Or maybe that's just cause I could blend in better back then

E: So you're that famous huh? Keep dropping hints like this and I'll be able to pick you out of a lineup soon enough

R: I mean if you guess correctly I'm not going to lie

E: No I won't do that

E: And by the way I don't have a spreadsheet or anything trying to narrow it down

E: I don't even have any public social media so I get it

R: I do, but I don't really use it for social purposes

E: Is any of it actually social?

E: But is that why you like this? Is it easier talking to people when they don't know you?

R: It has its pros and cons

R: I mean it's harder to be a sarcastic asshole via text. Isn't that Poe's law or something?

E: Is that the one about hitler?

R: No it's the one where people online will assume everything you say is genuine unless stated otherwise

E: And what's the opposite of that law? Because that's what you should apply to me

R: Noted. You've been pretty good at dialing it back so far

E: You're only seeing a fragment of my personality right now

E: So why'd you move out to LA? Work?

R: Sort of but not really. I kind of just followed the bandwagon

R: There was sort of a mass exodus six years ago. Or maybe that was just my social group. Either way, the 2008 crash made NY rent unaffordable for a lot of performers so they decided to take their chances out west

R: Sure it's convenient, but I definitely could've stayed in NY and been just fine. I'm not an actor or anything so I don't really need to be here. I might move back at some point. If I can find a reason that's worth the trouble

E: You have kids or a partner? Anything tying you down?

R: No, none of the above

E: So then there's nothing stopping you from going out tonight

R: ~~I'd really rather just hang with you~~

R: I have some leftovers that'll go bad if I don't eat them tonight

E: Then eat them. What kind of party starts before 11 anyway?

R: I'm starting to think you're way more invested in this than I am

E: Hey I've never been to an LA party before and I'm definitely never getting invited to one. You should go and tell me about it

R: Picture a party at the rich kid's house. Just swap out the cheap beer for blow and drop in several first-time directors whining about how their films were too esoteric to break into the festival circuit. And there's probably a Scorsese movie running in the background. But it's barely audible. Like a football game playing in a hospital waiting room

E: Guess I don't need to leave NY to find a party like that

E: Hey I have to go eat dinner in a sec but I might be back afterwards. Depends on if my wife feels like hanging out

R: Yeah stop wasting your weekend on me!

R: But I'll be here

R: Even if I go out you'll probably be asleep by then anyway

E: Ok but if I don't get back to you have a good night

R: Yeah you too

**4:13AM EST**

R: ~~I decided not to go out btw~~


	7. May 15 - Day

**May 15, 2015, 12:24PM EST**

E: How was your night?

R: It was alright

R: Did you ever go to house parties in college where all the freshman girls would show up in heels and tube tops but all the senior girls came in jeans and flannel? I'm the senior girl in this analogy

E: Too bad. You probably would've gotten free drinks if you'd gone with the tube top

R: I already got enough free drinks to sponsor a Russian wedding and the subsequent divorce

E: Are you really fucked up?

R: I've been worse. Much worse. But yeah just looking at this screen is starting to give me tunnel vision

E: It's only 9:30 for you. You should go back to sleep

R: Yeah I will

R: But first tell me what a Sunday morning is like on your side of the slab. Are you in 2.5 white picket fence territory? Do you have a white wine vault? Do you ride around in your lawn tractor to make all the other dads jealous?

E: First of all, I'm not a dad. Second, did you hack me or something? How do you know so much?

E: But seriously whatever you're picturing is probably close to reality

E: I really didn't want to move up here, but my wife wanted to live in a nicer area, which is usually how it goes

R: But if you don't have kids then what's the point?

R: Or are you planning on them?

R: Shit I'm sorry. I'm 39 I should know by now that people fucking hate that question

E: No it's cool. We're not planning on them and yeah the move didn't make sense to me either

E: It's weird. My wife really wanted to move to the suburbs but she gets really upset when people ask when we're going to have kids. I mean, that's the whole reason people move to places like this in the first place

R: Is it complicated?

E: Not really

E: She just can't have kids

R: I'm sorry

E: It's alright. She's known about it for a really long time. And I never wanted any so it doesn't bother me

E: I honestly don't know if she wants them or just likes the idea of them. She's never talked about adoption or anything. I think she just likes the idea of being a mother

E: She was in nursing school for a while but had to drop out because she developed some immune system issues, so she had to switch over to pharmacy

R: She sounds like a really caring person

E: Yeah she's been great the last couple of months with all my health bullshit

E: She's really worried. Maybe more worried than I am if that's possible. But I guess all the best doctors are hypochondriacs 

R: Yeah that checks out. My dad's a dentist and every time we talk on the phone he complains about his psychosomatic cavities

E: Your dad and I were probably separated at birth

E: Yeah I thought about doing pre-med for a while. But I took one class on contagious diseases and ended up in campus therapy for 6 months

R: That bad huh?

E: The fucking worst

R: Yeah I've had bouts of pretty shitty anxiety but never over stuff like that really. I once dropped a keg on my foot and didn't go to the ER til my toes turned black

E: I fucking want that life. I can't cut my finger without thinking about tetanus

R: Your survival instincts are a lot better than mine

E: No that's just the clinical anxiety

E: God sorry, I pay my therapist to listen to stuff like this. You should at least get a kickback or something

R: Hey I'm good! I really don't mind. I definitely have my own shit that'll probably make a guest appearance at some point

R: If we scroll down far enough

E: Man it feels weird that I can tell you virtually anything about myself and you still couldn't narrow me down from a crowd of 50,000. But I guess you can't tell me much about yourself without making things complicated

R: Ok we'll do the reddit thing. Ask me anything

E: My first thought was what do you look like but I'm not gonna ask that

R: White, tall, average-looking

E: You realize there are only so many "average-looking" guys in Hollywood right? That's a pretty big hint

R: Shit you're right. Ok ignore that. I'm stunningly handsome and just have really shit self-esteem

E: I'll buy that. So you're a tall, white, handsome guy in LA. I'm sure I could guess it in three tries

R: Hey around here I'm considered "atypical casting"

R: What about you? Can I get a few basic features? Just the ones on your driver's license?

E: White, brown hair, average-height, average-looking

R: Damn you should see the forensic sketch I just whipped up

R: Hit me with another question. I love undeserved attention

E: Damn why can't I think of anything?

R: Am I that uninspiring?

E: Hey I haven't been on a first date in four years, I'm rusty

R: Then I'll save you some trouble. I'm from Maine, my favorite food is cereal, I'm a night owl, my pretentious hobby is record collecting, I'm a dog person, and my antidepressant of choice is Lexapro

E: No shit I'm from Maine too! And mine's Zoloft

R: Yeah that's what I lost my SSRI virginity to. Couldn't handle the insomnia though

E: Pussy

R: You kiss your mother with that mouth?

E: My mother died of cancer four years ago

E: Bet you feel like shit now

R: Damn I'm sorry. I was going to make some shitty joke about kissing her for you but I guess I should offer my condolences instead

E: No you're good. We weren't close. And she was old enough that it wasn't really a tragedy

R: Still it sucks. Your dad still around?

E: No he died of lung cancer when I was five. But he was a lifelong chain smoker so I'm not too paranoid on that front

R: Still, sorry you had to deal with being an orphan at what, 34?

R: In this day and age that's some Dickensian shit

E: Well thankfully the courts emancipated me so I got to skip out on foster care

R: You're funny. Anyone ever tell you that?

E: Frequently, but not fondly

R: Yeah I get that

R: I mean I literally get that all the time

E: You probably don't try as hard as I do though

R: No trust me, I try really fucking hard

E: Including right now?

R: I'm currently sitting in a writers' room with ten other people workshopping every reply

E: Really? And this is the best you could come up with? If you're paying ten writers then I should be in love with you by now

R: Yeah I'd fire them but on my own all I've got going for me are some stale celebrity anecdotes that I've been recycling since 2002

E: That really all you got to offer?

R: I have five jars of expired salsa if you want some

E: I'm good

E: But hey, really, don't worry about it

E: I fucking suck at talking to people. And you deserve a complimentary cutting board or something for sticking around this long

R: It's literally been four days

E: Damn you're right. I should bump that up to a complimentary rice cooker

R: Do you bribe all your friends with household goods?

E: Isn't that just what a wedding registry is?

R: I don't know. I don't really get invited to weddings

E: Shit I just realized I'm old enough where I'll probably have to start going to people's second weddings soon

R: Hey I have friends who are on their fourth

E: They must like going into debt over cheap wine

R: Is that all I'm missing out on?

E: I ruined my credit score over 36 bottles of moscato 

R: Damn and you can't even get drunk off that shit without getting diabetes

E: Yeah I'm a fucking lightweight and even I had to sneak some shots from the caterers

R: ~~Happiest day of your life huh?~~

R: Sounds like a good time

E: Yeah happiest day of my life

R: Let me guess, she wanted a big wedding and you didn't?

E: Yeah something like that

E: I mean I can't blame her. I'm an only child and an orphan so I only had maybe five people I needed to invite, but her family's big enough to form its own colony. And she had relatives flying in from Poland, so I can't blame her for wanting to pull out all the stops

E: She was also the last of four sisters to get married so there was definitely some overcompensation there

R: I'm sorry. But it's a good memory in retrospect right?

E: Not really. I know that's a fucking awful thing to say but I was honestly so anxious and checked out that my clearest memory was hiding in the closet where they kept the Christmas pageant costumes

E: But you know what pushed me over the edge? It wasn't the money or the in-laws or the heat or any of that shit. It was finding out an hour before the ceremony that if we ever got divorced then I'd never be allowed to get married in the catholic church ever again

R: That something important to you?

E: Fuck no I don't give a shit. It just hit me then that getting married would affect me for the rest of my life

R: I know I really, really shouldn't ask, but did you want to get married?

E: I really didn't want to go back to dating

R: You don't have to get married to stop dating

E: I know

E: It's stupid but I felt like I was running out of time

R: At 36?

E: I grew up in a town where everyone had kids by 24

R: Yeah me too, but half the people in my hometown thought Maine was part of the confederacy and that it was okay to reuse condoms, so I don't feel too bad about ignoring their family planning standards

E: I think we grew up in the same town

E: And wait you can't reuse condoms?

R: Yeah came as a surprise to me too. I was just pulling a batch out of the dish washer when I heard the news

E: I fucking hate that you have the exact same sense of humor as me

R: I mean we're demographically the same person so that checks out

E: My wife doesn't like it when I try to be funny

R: Why not?

E: I don't know. She never told me to stop or anything, but after getting dead silence on every joke I eventually got the message

R: That sucks

R: ~~I'm a comedian so~~

R: 90% of my friends are comedians and you're more tolerable than all of them combined

E: That's probably a pretty low bar

R: Yeah comedians are the fucking worst

E: God every guy I work with wants to get into standup

E: Why are we so obsessed with it? I watch it all the time and it's not even funny

R: Hey it's a classic American art form!

E: Yeah so is tap dancing and we let that die out

R: You're going to get arrested if you say that in new york

E: What're they going to do? Ambush me? I'll hear their shoes all the way from midtown

R: I know people who'd doxx you for less than that

R: But why do you watch standup if you're not into it?

E: Maybe I'm no better than the guys I work with

E: Wait never mind, yes I am. I really don't fucking want to get into comedy

E: But I don't know man. It's short. And distracting. And I know most headliners probably have ghostwriters but I just like the idea of one person doing all the work on something. I mean even indie songs have 17 writer credits now. It's cool thinking about one person making something that's just their own. Even if it turns out like shit

R: Wow I wasn't expecting a genuinely earnest answer

E: Yeah I can turn it on when I need to

E: But I think I had a friend way back who wanted to get into standup. I don't think he made it though. I can't remember seeing him around anywhere

R: Hey not all of us can be hometown heroes

E: Is that what you are?

R: I mean I haven't been back to my hometown since my dad cleaned my teeth back in '94 but they probably have a photo of me hanging in the diner by now

E: You ever going back to give them a real picture? One they don't have to pull off google images?

R: Fuck no that diner sucked ass

E: Yeah we definitely grew up in the same town

E: Hey you know we've been talking for over two hours right?

R: Yeah

R: Imagine how many more words we could've gotten in if we were talking with our actual voices

R: You wanna be old ladies sometime and use our phones as phones?

E: Yeah I'd like that. And I know this sounds really shitty, but maybe sometime when my wife isn't around?

R: Yeah I'm cool with that

R: And hey, I know whatever's going on is categorically none of my business, but I'm here if you ever need to vent. And you don't have to worry about it getting back to Karen at the nail salon. Just use me like an angry letter

E: You probably have over a 100k twitter followers though. How do I know you won't start subtweeting my marriage if I tell you about how we sleep in separate rooms?

R: That true?

E: How do you think I got away with texting you so late the other night?

R: I don't know. I assumed your house had more than one room

E: It does. And I sleep in one of them. Alone

E: But hey I have to go. Talk to you later though

R: Yeah definitely. Any time


	8. May 15 - Night

**May 15, 2015, 11:56PM EST**

E: Sorry about being weird earlier

R: You weren't being weird

E: Yeah I was. I was real fucking weird. At the end at least

R: Oh yeah? Are you texting me from the room where you sleep? Alone.

E: Shut your fucking mouth

E: I really am sorry though. Can we pretend it didn't happen? That's what I'm going to do anyway and you're free to join me if you want

R: Hey I really don't mind

R: I mean I really don't mind

E: What's that supposed to mean?

R: It means I don't mind

E: That I came onto you?

R: Yeah

R: I don't mind

R: And you can come onto whoever you like as long as you ask permission

E: How many times have you used that one before?

R: How fucking dare you that's completely original material and I'm the first person to ever come up with it

R: I was also the first to point out that cognitive behavioral therapy and cock and ball torture have the same acronym

E: I saw people making that joke while Bush was still in office

R: Yeah I started doing shitty standup during the Clinton administration 

E: You're in standup?

R: Fuck. 

E: Is that a yes?

R: Fuck I'd never make it in the CIA. I'd be the guy blowing everybody's cover because I couldn't resist telling the sympathetic prostitute about my childhood

E: Hey you've done pretty good so far. The only blackmail material I've got so far is that you're lonely and maybe into dudes

R: Who says I'm lonely?

E: You got proof otherwise?

R: All guys my age are lonely

E: No I think this is a you problem

E: And if it makes you feel better you really didn't blow your cover. I mean you already said you weren't an actor so that really culled the field. And if you mainly work nights then I figured you were either a comedian or a musician. But we've been talking for four days and you haven't bitched about the music industry or pitched me a shitty LP so I figured that option was out

E: And honestly when you said you were "average-looking" that was a pretty big tell

R: Jesus Christ do you want my fucking social security number too?

E: Calm down you're still a tall white average-looking guy in comedy. I'll find the Bermuda Triangle in my coffee before I find you

R: Why don't I just give you tickets to my next show so you can come and shoot me on sight?

**12:39AM**

R: You asleep?

E: No sorry

E: I'm sorry I don't know why I'm giving you such a hard time. I barely know you, I don't know why I'm being such an asshole. I promise I'm not like this with everybody. Although there are at least 17 baristas in Manhattan with confirmed hits on me

R: No I like it. Makes me feel like I've known you a lot longer than I have

E: Have you been cyberbullied so much that you have some weird Stockholm syndrome response to it?

R: I grew up in a small town in the 80s and 90s, all my formative friendships were grounded in verbal abuse

E: Yeah I miss that. You'd think a bunch of rich white guys in finance would be cool with that sort of thing, but if I don't compliment their new haircuts I get letters from HR

R: God do you work in the financial district?

E: Yeah and if you could make a generous donation of $30k to pay off my student loans and bail me out that'd be great

R: I'm glad you're talking to me like you really are. I haven't quite figured out how to do that yet

E: Yeah please don't feel like you need to hold back. I'm really not worth the effort

R: I'm not as good at talking as you are

E: Don't you have to write and say words for a living?

R: That's what my manager tells me

R: But you're objectively funnier than me. It's a bit intimidating honestly. Much worse now that you know I make a living off manipulating people into laughing

E: Yeah but I could never do what you do. And you know all the shit I said about standup earlier was just ribbing right? I think what you do is pretty amazing

R: Oh no it's a garbage profession and if it didn't exist I could've gone on to do great things. Like stay in school long enough to declare a major

E: I did statistics for both my bachelors and masters and all I use it for is inducing panic attacks. For myself and everyone else involved

R: I really like talking to you

E: Yeah me too

E: And sorry again. I promise I still won't try to figure out who you are. And even if I have a guess I'll keep it to myself

R: Thanks

R: But hey, you were right earlier. About me being into guys

R: If you do figure out who I am, can you keep that to yourself too?

E: Fuck dude of course. No explanation required 

R: Thanks. And I will tell you who I am soon. But .3% of me is still convinced you're catfishing me from a cell center in Akron. It'd just make me more comfortable if you found out who I was in person

E: I'm cool with that 

R: But just so you know, I'm not going to die buried in a closet. I don't know what I'm waiting for exactly, but I'll get there

E: Hey I've no right to judge anyone for anything. I hid in a closet on my fucking wedding day

R: Yeah I was wondering if that was real or just a cry for help dressed up as an anecdote

E: It was all of the above

R: I'm sorry

E: Hey, I'm also not staying here forever

E: I'll figure it out soon. Once I get my health issues sorted out, hopefully. When I've got my shit together more

R: No rush. You have time

E: Doesn't fucking feel like it. I'm turning 39 next week

R: No shit really?!

E: I mean there are only 52 weeks in a year so statistically it was bound to happen at some point

R: That's such a weird coincidence though because I actually have to come to NY next week for some business shit. I'll be pretty tied up but maybe we could meet for dinner or something?

E: I'd like that. Here's the thing though. I can't eat food from restaurants

R: Why not?

E: Stupid fucking contamination OCD. I mean I've always had some weird issues with eating out (heh) but last year I had shit awful luck and got food poisoning three times in five months. All from three different restaurants and three completely different types of food, so I know it wasn't an allergy thing

E: I'll get over it at some point but right now I'm living off whatever I can make at home

R: God that fucking sucks. I'm sorry. Can I buy you a drink instead? 

E: I can't drink on my meds

R: Then I'll buy you a glass of orange juice or something I just really want to meet you

E: I do too. But I know I won't be able to get down to the city without my wife freaking out and it's probably not a good idea for you to come up here

R: What if I just meet you at a coffeeshop during your lunch break or something? Would that be ok?

E: Actually yeah that'll work

E: And I can take part of the day off if you want to do anything

R: Like what?

E: I don't know. It's New York. There's shit to do

R: You want me to book a hotel or something?

E: Won't you be staying in a hotel anyway?

R: Valid observation 

R: We'll see

R: Maybe we'll meet in person and realize we're better off as anonymous penpals. Or you might decide you're not interested

E: I hope that doesn't happen. For either of us

R: Me too

R: God it's fucking late over there why are you still talking to me? Don't you have work in the morning?

E: Yeah I have to get up in less than five hours

R: Go to fucking sleep

E: I've been drifting off between replies for the last half hour

R: Good night. I'll talk to you tomorrow

E: Yeah good night. And see you soon I guess


	9. May 16 - Day

**May 16, 2015, 12:06PM EST**

E: So I didn't go into work today

R: Why not? I keep you up too late?

E: I woke up so dizzy I could barely walk

R: Shit are you ok? I mean obviously not but are you feeling any better now?

E: Yeah I'm good. Everything's still weirdly off kilter but at least it doesn't feel like I'm on a shitty amusement park ride anymore. I've been trying to sleep it off but closing my eyes makes it a lot worse

R: I'm sorry. Is it bad enough to go to the ER?

E: No they can't do anything for me. I already had an MRI two weeks ago and they didn't find anything

R: That's good. I hope it's just a benign vertigo condition or something

E: Yeah hopefully. It's probably just a symptom of having crazy low blood pressure, but we haven't figured out why I have that either. I mean it doesn't make sense since I'm stressed about literally everything all the time

R: When did the low blood pressure thing start?

E: A couple months ago

E: And I keep losing weight even though I'm not eating any less. I mean it's not extreme. I've only lost about 15 pounds over three months but it shouldn't be happening and I really don't have much weight to spare

E: Then I also have a bunch of vitamin deficiencies that we haven't figured out yet. And I know this is turning into an episode of House but I've also been having stomach issues and migraines but those could just be stress symptoms from the other shit

R: Fuck I'm sorry

E: It's ok. I had the MRI and an endoscopy and a bunch of other tests to weed out the really bad shit. Now I just have a giant fucking question mark on my record

E: Sorry I don't really want to talk about it since there's nothing I can do. I just fucking hate it

R: Is there anything I can do to help?

R: I mean realistically I know there isn't but I thought I'd ask anyway since that's what people do

E: Honestly just talking to you about dumb shit has been pretty distracting. It's stupid but when I'm talking to you I get so anxious about saying the wrong thing that it somehow drowns out my existential fear of death

R: Damn if making stupid conversation is a therapy skill then I've been practicing psychiatry since preschool

E: Honestly you've been more help than my therapist. It's fun how all CBT really does is train you to ignore the worse case scenario. But those strategies kind of fall through when you're living your worst case scenario

E: Ok maybe not the worst. But pretty high up there. For me at least

R: Yeah I get it. I mean, how the hell are you supposed to ignore hypochondria when you're actually sick?

E: I'm sure some people can manage it but I fucking can't

E: And even before all this shit started the rounds of therapy I've been through never really worked. I mean I'm going to die no matter what

E: Like if you're scared of flying your odds of dying in a plane crash are about 1 in 5.4 million, and those are numbers I could work with. But statistically speaking, there's a 100% chance that I'm going to die at some point. And sure maybe it won't be from some one in a billion bone-eating disease, but I'm still going to die and no amount of counseling is ever going to change that

R: Yeah but if you ever want to be happy don't you kind of have to ignore the fact that you're going to die?

E: God I've fucking tried

E: What really fucking sucks is that I did everything you're supposed to do. Even in college I was eating salad four times a week. I ran everyday and sat out on cool shit and never did anything fun because I thought eking out my life expectancy was more important than having a fucking life

E: And now I'm only 38 and my body is fucking falling apart and there's nothing I could've done differently and I'm still thinking irrational shit like maybe if I hadn't gotten blackout drunk in 2003 then maybe this wouldn't be happening

E: I just feel like a fucking parent. Like I sacrificed so much for this stupid lump of cells and now it's breaking down on me for no reason and there's nothing I can do to stop it

R: God I'm so sorry. That's not fucking fair. If anything I should be the one dealing with all that shit. I chain-smoked for eleven years and lived exclusively off french fries and red bull til I was 31, and I still drink way too much and do all the shit the CDC warns you about

E: And let me guess, you're perfectly healthy

R: I mean my cholesterol's a bit high and I had a cyst on my kidney last year but besides that yeah kinda

E: I fucking hate you and your stupid genes

E: Sorry to make things real fucking weird, but when I die I want to be cremated cause I just hate my body so fucking much. Not in a self-esteem way. (I lied earlier. I'm actually kind of good-looking) I just hate that I have to live in it. It's like being trapped in an old disgusting house full of asbestos and all of the exits are only good for fucking

E: Even before all this shit I fucking hated my body. I hate how I can make any part of it hurt if I think about it hard enough. I hate how I can't go one fucking day without fixating on some new bullshit

E: And it's fucking unfair that when I die I'll have to leave but my body will get to stick around. So I want this piece of shit burned and tossed in the fucking sewer

E: Sorry. I made things real weird there

R: No you're good. I mean it makes sense. You gotta get your postmortem revenge where you can

E: Sorry I'll stop talking about it now. I know I just violated every therapy rule in record speed

R: Don't worry I won't tell the CBT police

E: Why would you tell the cock and ball torture police?

R: Hey you're the one getting all hot over the thought of torturing your own corpse

E: Fair

E: But really I'll stop talking about it now

E: I don't even like talking to my wife about it, but that's all she wants to do

E: I keep telling her I just want to ignore it but whenever we're together she keeps asking me how my meds are working or if I'm sleeping enough or need to be eating more of this or that or whatever the fuck. Or she'll tell me about some article she read about some new mystery disease this guy in Iceland has, and I can't blame her for being worried but I just can't fucking talk about it anymore

R: Ok don't worry I won't bring it up

R: Let's talk about something else. Like when are you going to be free next week?

E: When are you getting in?

R: I'm flying in Monday afternoon

E: I'm free everyday from 12:30-1:30. You?

R: Would Tuesday work? You pick the meeting place?

E: Yeah that sounds good

E: And I hope it'll work out. I mean I have good days and bad days, but these vertigo episodes usually only hit me once a week, so statistically I should be able to get into work at least once next week. And I'm going to start taking the train in so I don't have to worry about causing a national tragedy 

R: Ok but if you need to reschedule just let me know

E: I don't want you rearranging your entire schedule for me

R: Too bad

R: And hey even if you're not up for walking around or anything we could just go back to my hotel and hang out

R: And I really mean just hang out

R: Also what the fuck you lied about being average-looking?? This whole time I thought we were on the same playing field!

E: You'd already called yourself average-looking! What was I supposed to say? How would you have felt if I'd told you that I run marathons and got asked to model in my 20s?

R: Are you fucking serious?!

E: I'd love to answer that but my eyes are getting real fucking tired and I think I should get something to eat before crawling back into bed for another five hours

R: Yeah go do that

R: I hope you feel better later. Text me anytime

E: You know I will

R: Fucking average-looking


	10. May 16 - Night

**May 16, 2015, 9:40PM EST**

E: How was the rest of your day?

R: Not bad. Uneventful. But heads up, I have to head out in like 10 minutes for a dinner meeting

E: You mean someone else is going to pay for your dinner and drinks and you don't even have to blow them?

R: Not anymore at least

R: I'll probably be out til about 10 my time, so I'm guessing you'll be asleep by then

E: Maybe not. I slept almost 9 hours today. But don't worry I won't wait up

R: Sounds good. You feeling any better?

E: Yeah much. Physically at least. I always feel better in the evenings for some reason

R: I'm glad. But don't fuck it up by ruining your sleep schedule over me

E: You really think my sleep schedule wasn't already fucked up?

E: And I'd rather screw it up over talking to you than scrolling through AITA threads til 3am

R: You read those to make yourself feel better about verbally abusing me?

E: I read them cause it's nice to know there are marriages out there more dysfunctional than mine

R: Ok Dustin Hoffman calm down

R: Hey my uber's getting here in a sec so I'll talk to you later

E: Yeah have fun. And if they buy you that top shelf shit I won't judge if you need to put out

**May 17, 2015, 1:16AM EST**

R: Hey you're probably sleeping but I'm back

E: I'm awake. Just dicking around on my phone

R: Anything interesting?

E: Not really. Just refreshing the same three apps

E: How was your night?

R: Not bad but fair warning, I'm slightly drunk right now. Not keysmash typo drunk but we definitely had a few nightcaps. I think they were trying to drink me under the table so I could suck their dicks

R: Wait I should write that down

E: You just did

R: Somewhere is won't get buried

E: Just screencap it

R: Done

R: God sorry I know talking to a drunk person when you're sober is awkward as shit

E: You're good, I just took a klonopin a couple hours ago so we're probably at the same level

R: That sounds nice. I'll be sober in an hour or so but that shit keeps you up for a while

E: Have you tried it?

R: Recreationally

R: Back before I had health insurance I had a friend who got prescribed more of it than he needed so he sold me his extras

R: But then he cut me of so he could start trading them for edibles

R: So I just went back to being an alcoholic

E: Isn't that the plot of requiem for a dream?

R: Throw in a double ended dildo and basically

E: Yeah I get it

E: I was always that asshole in college who got all high and mighty about pot and drinking but thought getting high off Xanax alone in my room was a nice form of me time

R: So you were that Christian kid who told everyone you were waiting til marriage but had no problem sucking duck because it didn't really count?

R: *dick

E: Basically yeah. I think I tore a muscle from all the mental gymnastics

R: You get a prescription for it or were you smart enough to write term papers in exchange? 250 words per tablet?

E: Nah I had a prescription. It was all very aboveboard. But the thing is I was way more sensitive to it than expected but I liked it so much that I never told my doctor to lower the dose

E: But I almost never used it on weekdays since I was so stressed about school and work and shit that I didn't really have the mental real estate to panic over a twinge in my chest or whatever. But it always flared up on weekends when I was alone so I'd usually try to stay checked out til Monday

E: That's why I don't like taking days off from work. Sitting at home with nothing to do but dwell on how shitty I feel makes me ducking neurotic

E: *fucking

R: Yeah I believe it. I'm kind of at the same place now where I'm between projects and don't really have shit to do except go to meetings and scribble shit on napkins and watch old youtube videos of myself to try to remember how to be funny

R: Not to compare me being a lazy shit to your Debilitating Mental Illness

E: It's cool. We're both just getting through life and disappointing our high school health teachers in the process

R: You ever have to sign those contracts in school swearing on your balls you'd never smoke weed and you'd narc on anyone who did?

E: Dude they made us sign those for our virginity too

R: Oh yeah I remember that shit

E: We got those AOUM rings that everyone wore ironically. But they were made of such cheap alloy that they basically left everyone with wedding ring tattoos

R: Fuck I forgot about that acronym til now. Anal Only Until Marriage

E: You come up with that yourself? Cause our school had the exact same joke

R: Nah I've no idea who thought of it. Teenage hivemind

R: Hey you're gonna judge me so hard for this but I was my school's resident dealer

E: I think most comedians have that in their origin story

R: Yeah and I'm pretty much as cookie cutter as they get

R: But anyway there was this guy at the movie theater who obviously couldn't got around selling shit at the high school so he put me in payroll. In hindsight he took a way bigger cut than he should've but I got enough petty cash to buy whatever videogame or band merch I wanted so as far as first jobs go it was a lot better than farm work or food service

E: Your parents must've known

R: Yeah I'm sure but they basically treated me like an outdoor cat they just had to feed and let in on snow days

R: And they knew I was going to turn out like shit anyway so they never really bothered course correcting

E: They change their tone after you became a hometown hero?

R: Well they fucking hate my job and make sure I know it but they have no problem hitting me up for money when they want to go to Venice or some shit

E: I'm sorry. I feel like an asshole for saying this but I'm kind of glad my parents are dead

E: Damn that makes me sound like a fucking sociopath

E: It's just that I know a lot of people have a really rough time of it. Dealing with nursing homes and Alzheimer's and money and shit. But my dad died young and my mom died less than two months after her diagnosis

E: And now I'm in my 30s and don't have to worry about a lot of the stuff most people have to deal with in their 40s and 50s

R: Yeah I'm starting to deal with that shit now. My mom's memory is going and my dad's a Reagan era asshole who's still up Reagan's ass. He blew their retirement savings on a lot of dumb shit knowing I'd cough up checks to support them

E: Fuck I'm sorry. My mom did the same thing even though I really, really didn't have the money to spare. Which is her own damn fault since she made me go to an ivy league runner up knowing it'd put me over $100k in debt

R: Hey you keep me entertained next week and I'll write you that check for $30k to pay off the rest

E: I'll pick up some knee pads from target

E: But really I'm sorry about your parents. That sounds like a bad situation all around

R: It's ok, I know I really shouldn't be complaining since yeah at the moment I'm rich enough to support them, but I have no idea how my career's going to turn out or what my savings will look like at 70

R: They don't even get me Hanukkah presents anymore but whine and bitch if I don't buy them the newest phones and pay for their cable

E: I'm really sorry. I'm sure a lot of people have already told you this but they really shouldn't be treating you that way

R: It's ok. My sister's cool and we help each other through it

R: Was it rough dealing with your mom as an only child?

E: Kind of yeah, but I don't know if having siblings would've helped

E: I mean it'd suck if someone else had to go through all that too

E: She really was the fucking worst

E: I went to college over 90 miles away but she'd leave me these long tearful voicemails if I didn't come home every single weekend

E: She was a fucking hypocrite too. She weighed over 400 pounds when she died and lived off little debbies but she'd start lecturing me about trans fats if I had the audacity to eat a french fry in front of her

E: Every time I came home for Christmas she'd guilt trip me for moving to NY instead of staying up in Maine to take care of her, and this was when she was still in her fucking 50s

E: She kept talking about how she left my room intact and how ungrateful I was for making her waste the space since I wouldn't move back and be her fucking live-in nurse. And by the way she was real fucking mad when I switched out of pre-med

R: Damn, no wonder you needed Xanax by undergrad

E: Yeah sorry for ranting

R: Don't worry that's what 2am texting is for

R: I'm really sorry. You didn't deserve any of that. No kid does

E: I know. Just got unlucky

R: You're a really good guy you know. From where I'm standing at least. Don't know how those Manhattan baristas fell

R: And hey despite the typos I'm really not even tipsy anymore. I just drank like a pint of orange juice so I have no business being this much of a mess

E: Damn it you're probably more sober than me now. That's not fair

R: You sound pretty sober

E: As I've been told

E: It's stupid since I know klonopin is just as bad for me as a lot of illegal shit but since it comes in an orange bottle with my name on it I can pretend it's just another vitamin

R: Hey don't be so hard on yourself. Life is fucking you over right now and if it gives you some relief you shouldn't beat yourself up over it

R: And hey in my 20s I did everything short of heroin. Cut some ketamine with maple syrup and I'd say pass the fucking pancakes

R: I mean I more or less stopped after I finally got health insurance and surprise surprise I had undiagnosed depression and ADHD

E: Yeah that's often how those things go

E: I'm glad you managed to figure things out. I'm really lucky I got treatment as early as I did, but I'm sorry you had to wait so long. I'm really glad you're still around and still healthy

R: Fuck dude don't make me feel things this late. Really I'm good. Thankfully I never had to go to rehab or anything and now I'm just a social user

E: And you clearly don't have much of a social life so basically you just get weeknight drunk like the rest of us

R: How the fuck do you know so much? You have a side hustle as a Staten Island medium?

E: Yeah and I'll give you a palm reading if you tack an extra $10 to that 30k

E: But you know, sometimes I wish I did more fun shit when I was younger

R: Trust me, no you fucking don't. Whatever beautiful mind burning man nonsense you're imagining isn't worth waking up with a deviated septum and $200 and a movie club card missing from your wallet

E: That sounds like a fun tangent but I wasn't actually talking about drugs

R: Oh yeah what then?

E: That other thing that people sometimes do in exchange for drugs

R: Wow way to make things awkward

E: That the small town abstinence education kicking in?

R: No that's just my chronic embarrassment as a human being

E: So are you going to be weird about it if we hook up next week?

R: Absolutely. I'm going to be so fucking weird. My foreplay will involve several hours of making you watch Key & Peele clips and ranting about why the new Star Wars is going to suck

E: Sorry we can go back to talking about ketamine if you like

R: No it's cool. I'm just getting stage fright jitters a whole ass week before I actually see you

R: I really don't want to screw things up

E: Hey I haven't had sex in eight months. Just don't call me slurs or throw a drink in my face and you're almost guaranteed to get laid

R: I think those standards are just low enough for me to work with

R: But sorry I got us off topic. Why do you wish you did more of that stuff when you were younger?

E: I don't know, I've just been thinking a lot about being a kid lately. And by kid I mean everything before my late 20s

E: I just missed out on so much. And maybe they wouldn't all have been good memories but right now I feel like I don't have any memories at all

R: If it makes you feel any better, I committed misdemeanors more often than I showered and I still feel like my memory is shot to shit

R: But yeah on the sex front I'm on the same page as you. It'd be nice if I could've just had fun with it. I mean if I came out back then it definitely would've t-boned my career but I'd probably be a much happier person

E: You can't know that for sure

E: Besides you were probably still having a lot more fun than me

E: I didn't sleep with anyone til grad school cause I was so paranoid about STDs that I couldn't even kiss anyone without thinking about mono

R: Yeah I hear health anxiety can really fuck you over on that front. And the AIDS crisis probably didn't do your brain chemistry any favors

E: Yeah I barely even let myself look at men back then, much less fuck them

R: You were an MLM? A man-looking-man?

E: Yeah I was really into multi-level marketing

R: Can I steal that?

E: I mean it's not very original but you can steal any of my jokes for 1% residuals

E: But yeah the first time I slept with someone it was this girl from one of my classes. We weren't dating or anything but we were working on a project together and it just sort of happened. We were so safe we could've starred in a PSA but I shit you not less than a minute after it was over I started freaking out that I might have AIDS

E: I didn't say anything but I was a wreck for a couple days before I finally called her to ask when she'd last been tested. She didn't pick up so I left a voicemail but I think she got offended because she never called back or talked to me again

E: And the thing is HIV can take up to three months to appear on tests, so for twelve fucking weeks I was having daily panic attacks

E: Then I finally got tested and of course I was negative on everything, but I almost had to withdraw from the semester because I had sex one time and it destroyed my mental health for three months. How fucked up is that?

R: Is this your extremely roundabout way of asking me to get tested?

E: If you wouldn't mind

R: No of course not!

R: And shit dude I'm sorry. I mean first times universally suck but that's some traumatic shit

E: No it's not. I just decided to make it traumatic for no reason

R: Still she should've at least called back

E: Hey I was just some weird virgin she hooked up with who left her a freaky voicemail. She didn't owe me shit

R: She could've been kind though

E: I wasn't a very kind person back then either

E: And I'm still not

R: I think you are

E: You might change your mind when you meet me in person

R: I don't think I will. And for the record sometimes I don't feel like a very kind person either

E: You treat me a lot better than I treat you

R: Yeah but that's just a conversation dynamic

E: Still I keep telling myself to be nicer to you. But then I get these snappy lines in my head and can't just let them sit there

R: You'll get blocked up if you do that

R: But really I like the way you talk to me. Most people are so nervous around me they just smile and nod at whatever I say

E: Then I guess it's my job to make sure you don't wind up in the ER with your head stuck up your ass

R: Wow it's not even January 2nd and you've already bailed your resolution to be nicer to me

R: But on a serious note, I can get tested no problem. I mean most results will take up to two weeks but the HIV test takes like ten minutes. I can take care of that sometime this week

R: And I haven't slept with anyone in five months so don't worry I'm well past the incubation period

E: Thank you. Like seriously thank you

E: I hate asking about it. And I know it's a lot to ask of people. Not getting tested, but waiting three months since they last got laid

R: Not to be a youth pastor, but if they're not willing to wait then you shouldn't bother with them

E: Yeah but I can't really afford to be picky

R: I thought you got asked to model in your 20s?

E: I did but if I can't casually get my dick wet without going on a three-month anxiety bender then most people see that as a big fucking red flag

R: I don't. Everyone has their weird sex issues, and that's definitely not the biggest hang up I've encountered out in the wild

R: And hey just because I'm getting tested don't feel like you have to follow through on anything

E: How much more bluntly can I convey that I really want to fuck you?

R: We could be ten years married and I'd still be looking over my shoulder for camera crews

R: Damn we've talked about some really heavy shit today. How about we take a break tomorrow and keep things light?

E: I'm down for that

E: If we can manage it

E: But hey you know what's weird? I haven't even told my wife a lot of the shit I just told you. Like she knows almost nothing about my mom. Just that she died suddenly and we weren't close

R: I'm sorry. I know I've said that a lot today, but really, I hope I'm helping

E: You really are actually

R: It's so fucking weird that I've only known you for a few days but I feel like I know you better than people I've known for years

R: All I want to do is talk to you

E: Yeah same on all of the above

E: Every time you text me I get a serotonin hit

E: It's kind of addicting

R: Yeah. As someone who's been an actual addict, yeah

R: Hey it's 5 in the morning for you

E: It's fine I slept on and off from 2-10

R: Still you should take a nap before work

E: I'll try

E: I can't believe it's only been ten days since you were just another wrong number

R: Yeah I think I understand how time relativity works now

E: I already did since I took advanced physics, but now I understand what people who didn't pass physics mean when they talk about it

R: Hey I got an A in advanced physics and I'm still into sappy shit

E: Good for you. Now go the fuck to sleep

R: You too

E: Goodnight

R: Goodnight


	11. May 17 - Day

**May 17, 2015, 12:30PM EST**

R: How's your day going so far?

E: Not bad

E: I'm feeling a lot better

E: I mean I'm still only at maybe 58% but at least I don't feel like a stiff breeze is enough to knee tackle me

R: I'm glad. So you made it into work alright?

E: Yeah I took the train into Penn Station. It adds 20 minutes but at least I got to zone out the whole way

E: And hey did you text me exactly when I started my lunch break on purpose?

R: What? Who? Me?

R: Of course not. And I definitely didn't set an alarm on my phone or anything

E: All that preparation and the best you could come up with was a "how's your day" text?

R: Oh yeah I forgot, you're one of those guys who hates small talk and jumps right into showing off your moles at the neighborhood barbecue. The ones your doctor said were definitely benign but you'd really like a 13th opinion

E: Hey if your foreplay's going to involve making me clockwork orange watch key & peele skits then I'm entitled to show you every freckle on my body and ask for reassurance

R: Do I get to kiss them afterwards?

E: I'm at work, don't give me ideas

E: But hey I just got out of a shitty meeting with my boss

E: Not pink slip shitty, just shitty in general

R: What about?

E: I emailed him yesterday to ask about possibly working from home part time until I can figure out my health shit. Because I'm really not sick enough to go on medical leave, but I only have one sick day left and I really can't handle the 9 hours of work and 3 hours of commuting every fucking day

R: I mean yeah sick or not no one should have to handle that

E: That's why they have both kinds of coke in the vending machines around here

R: Diet and regular? 

E: Yes. And cherry

E: But yeah I really don't want to stop working since I'll go fucking stir crazy. And it's frustrating since I usually feel fine by the afternoons unless I get a migraine or something. It wasn't so bad this morning, but it usually feels like waking up with a concussion

E: My doctor said I might not be breathing properly in my sleep and not getting enough oxygen which is fucking scary

R: Jesus I'm sorry. That's fucking awful

E: But it's weird since I slept all afternoon yesterday and felt completely fine

E: I don't know. It's fucking weird

E: But anyway my boss said we can probably work something out. I've been here for eleven years so I have some leeway. And I'm really just a number cruncher so I don't have to meet with clients or anything

R: I can't imagine you in any job that requires interacting with the public

E: Yeah can you imagine if I stuck with the medical tract?

R: You'd start every appointment with "so this could be cancer, or"

E: I'd just mentally absorb the symptoms of whoever I came in contact with. Someone would come in with a weird rash and I'd start freebasing calamine lotion

R: If you were my doctor I think I'd have to sue you for malpractice. Not for medical reasons. Just because you wouldn't stop hitting on me

E: Hey lots of people are into that

R: Weird question, but do you think sticking with medicine would've helped at all? Just being exposed to it? I mean a lot of people go to the hospital and very few of them die. And humans are pretty sturdy. I mean women routinely get cut in half for c-sections and they're back to business in a few weeks. Do you think being around shit like that would've helped at all?

E: That's funny, my undergrad therapist said the same thing

E: But no

E: It's sort of like getting compliments. Like if you get a hundred compliments and one criticism all you'll remember is the criticism. It'd be like that for me. I could discharge a hundred healthy patients but if only one of them died that's the only one that'd stick with me

E: Or at least that's how I explained it to my therapist

R: So if thinking about probabilities stresses you out so much why'd you switch to statistics?

E: Because it's all on graph paper

E: I mainly studied mathematical statistics so it was almost all theoretical. I didn't have to apply it to real world scenarios much. And now I specialize in risk assessment for commercial property insurance, so as long as I don't open a B&B on a fault line my mental health should hold up ok

R: How do you still have a personality after doing this for 11 years?

E: I don't know you tell me

E: And you'll have some time to think about it because my lunch break ended 10 minutes ago

R: Yeah I know. I was just hoping you wouldn't notice

E: I have a break from 3-3:15 if you want to text me then

R: I will

R: Have fun with your fault lines

**3:00PM EST**

R: Hey I want to get you something for your birthday, what do you want?

E: Don't you fucking dare get me anything

R: Come on you must be out of pencil lead or something

E: I'm an adult I can buy my own shit

R: Come on there must be something. Just no liquids since I'm taking this shit on a plane

E: Just buy me a coffee when we meet up. I'm fucking awful to shop for

R: Well what do you usually buy for yourself?

E: About 83% of my disposable income goes towards hand sanitizer and haircuts

R: And the other 17%

E: Online subscriptions that I forget to cancel after the one-month free trial

R: What if I just gave you a signed headshot? You could probably sell it on ebay for a whole $17 and get yourself something nice

E: Sure let's go with that. That'll get me a four-pack of Brita filters

E: The guys in the office are looking at me weird

R: Why?

E: Because I'm smiling

R: They can see you? You're not in your office?

E: I am but they have glass walls. So basically I'm in a transparent cubicle

R: Sounds like hell

R: I'm glad you're smiling though

**6:42PM EST**

E: So hey, turns out trains have this cool feature where you can text people and travel at the same time

R: Just like the old days

R: You still holding up ok?

E: Yeah I'm good. Tired as shit but what else is new

E: How was your day? The high point of mind was when two of my coworkers asked me to look over a spreadsheet that wasn't adding up right and turns out they just accidentally deleted an entire column. Then I had to teach them about command Z

E: And command C

E: And P

E: A, S, X, etc

R: Reminds me of teaching my 3yr old niece the alphabet

E: If she knows the alphabet then she's already more qualified than half the people on my floor

E: Send me her resume

E: But hey, answer my question. How was your day?

R: Not bad. Hung around, worked on some shit I can't contractually tell you about

R: And I'm feeling kind of out of it, so sorry if I'm not very good company

E: Yeah me too. But that's ok. We're texting, not writing a pilot

R: Yeah I forget about that sometimes

R: You won't ghost me if I go a few hours without being funny right?

E: I'll fucking pay you for it

R: Thank god

R: btw if you're waiting for a witty comeback I don't have one

E: Shit dude, you sure you're ok?

R: Yeah I'm good

R: Just been thinking about some stuff. Two things in particular. One's not really a big deal and the other sort of is

E: Ok hit me with the first

E: Just if you want to

R: Yeah it's just something random about last night

R: It's about the business dinner I had. That it was just with one person. And it was actually a half-meeting half-date situation

E: Damn is the dating scene in LA so bad you can't get coffee without exchanging resumes?

R: If you date in my circle then yeah pretty much

E: So what's bothering you about it?

R: Just that I didn't tell you. I mean her name was Elizabeth so don't worry I'm definitely not following up. Just thought I'd let you know

E: Dude we've been text flirting for three days and don't even know each other's names. Girl or not, if I got upset about you going on a date that'd be a record-breaking red flag

R: Yeah I didn't think you'd be upset or anything. Just wanted to keep you in the loop

R: But yeah we got set up by my agent of all people. And it was one of those things where if things worked out we'd call it a date and if they didn't then we'd call it a business dinner

E: So what would you call it?

R: Well it was definitely a business dinner for me, but for her I think it might've been a date

R: She showed me a picture of her kid

E: Bad sign

R: Hey that's mean, it was a cute kid. He's six and likes puzzles

E: You make a habit of being a one-date wonder?

R: Yeah kind of. And it's always weird since I really like hanging out with women. I mean I had a great time with her. She's a writer for a show I really dig and we clicked on just about everything, which is gonna make it all the more awkward when I don't follow up

R: But anyway that's not the main thing I wanted to talk about. It just got me thinking about something else

E: Damn three days into our digital affair and you're already hitting me with a "we need to talk?"

R: Yeah sorry. I was going to wait til later tonight but I have shit impulse control. And it can definitely wait til then, but I wanted to talk about Myra

E: What about her?

R: The fact that you're married to her

E: Is this new information?

R: No but I thought you should know where I stand on the issue because I kind of have a fucked up history with married men

R: You want me to wait til you're home?

E: No go ahead

R: Ok strap in and put up your tray table

R: So most of the guys I've been with were married. Even in my early 20s I generally went after older men. At first I figured it was just a kink or something, but then I did some old-fashioned psychoanalysis and realized I was going after married men because they were a lot less likely to want anything serious. And way less likely to get me outed. I mean, they're less likely than Kyle down at the gay bar to start telling all their friends they fucked me

E: That makes sense

R: No it's fucked up, you can say it

R: But anyway, when I was sleeping with married guys I hardly ever thought about their wives. I mean I figured their marriages were dead on arrival anyway, and the guys were going to cheat regardless of whether or not I was around

R: And a lot of the guys I slept with said some really awful shit about their wives. And eventually I got smart enough to realize that most of it was bullshit and they were just really angry about being married

R: Then I found out there were whole therapy groups for women who were married to gay guys, and I read all these message boards and it finally hit me that what they went through was really fucked up and unfair

R: I mean, basically being used as a prop and tricked into thinking someone loved you and then getting dropped the second the guy gets his shit in order? And yeah I can't blame the guys either since they were stuck with a shitty situation too, but I always bought into this idea that their wives must be manipulative bitches when really the vast majority are just good people who got stuck with a really bad hand

R: And I wish I could say I stopped sleeping with married men after this grand revelation, but I'm fucking scum so no, I didn't

R: And it's been eating at me because I really don't know anything about your wife except that she works as a pharmacist and is really worried about you. And I'm sure I'll never meet her and if we do our jobs right she'll never know I exist. And I still want to meet you and I'll probably suck your dick regardless, so I guess this whole spiel is just what the kids call virtue signaling. Like sure I'll help you cheat but I'm gonna feel a little bad about it

R: I'm sorry

R: I shouldn't have sprung all this on you in public

E: No it's alright, thank you for telling me. And you're right about everything. I totally get it

E: I just got off at my stop but can I text you back later tonight? Sorry to keep you on the hook but it might be a long conversation, but I hope it'll clarify a few things

R: Yeah of course!

E: Thanks again for telling me all that. I was going to bring it up soon anyway, so thanks for biting the bullet

E: You dirty home-wrecker

R: Cheating whore


	12. May 17 - Night

**May 17, 9:31PM EST**

E: Hey you free to talk now?

R: Yeah perfect timing. I just pulled my leftovers out of the microwave

R: Should I get myself a drink? Will it be that kind of talk?

E: If you want to, but I promise it's not as bad as the scenarios you've probably been building up in your head for the last two hours

R: So you're not going to ask me to move in so I can be a part of your poly throuple? Cause that happened to me once

E: Damn you really have some battle scars don't you

E: No it's really not that bad

R: Ok lay it on me

E: Alright, hope you enjoy the in-flight movie with your dinner

E: Basically I told Myra I was leaving back in January

R: Leaving leaving?

E: Yeah, leaving with a capital L

E: I mean we'd already been sleeping in separate rooms for three months. And we were fighting constantly and weren't even kissing anymore, so it's not like it came out of nowhere

E: We were watching TV when I finally worked up the guts to tell her I was thinking of moving out soon, and I asked her what she wanted to do with the house. If she wanted to stay or if we should sell it

R: And how'd she react?

E: She didn't really

E: She just sat there and nodded a few times

E: I figured she just needed some time to process it, but it's been four months now and she still refuses to talk about it

E: I bring it up maybe once every two weeks and she either ignores me or says she needs more time for this shit or that

E: I think she's really fucking embarrassed. She really cares about that sort of thing. And we've only been married for 21 months, and I don't think anyone in her immediate family has ever gotten divorced before. Catholics you know

R: So why not just leave? Pack a few bags and get yourself a nice divorce apartment off the interstate?

E: Well my health shit started like a month later and that threw a wrench in everything

E: And I'm still waiting for an answer on the house since I really don't want to shell out mortgage payments while renting an apartment in the city at the same time. If she wants to keep the house that's fine, but I really need to nail things out with an attorney before I stop making payments, and between doctors appointments and sick days I just don't have the time

E: Yet somehow I still manage to find time to text you for 10 hours a day

R: Damn have I been helping you procrastinate on your divorce this whole time?

E: Yeah you've really been enabling me over here

E: Plus I also have to deal with apartment hunting and moving and getting my name off the house insurance and changing my will and all this shit I just don't have the energy for right now

E: That's part of the reason why I asked my boss if I could switch to part time. So I can deal with all this shit and not kill myself in the process

E: So yeah, that's where I'm at. Should I wait until I'm officially moved out before I start dating again? Yes. But I'm an asshole and I'm getting really sick of waiting

R: That all checks out

R: Why didn't you tell me earlier?

E: I wasn't sure if you'd care or not. I mean, if you were cool with just hooking up then I figured you didn't need or want to know the gritty details of my marriage

E: But I was planning on telling you soon anyway since it seemed like things were getting more serious

R: Are they getting more serious?

E: You're getting me a birthday present and asked if you could kiss my freckles. That's not the sort of shit you text a guy you're hitting up for hotel sex

R: Hey I didn't hit you up for shit! You're the one who turned our family-friendly conversation into a grindr DM

E: Ok yeah that one's on me

E: But does that make you feel any better? I mean yes, under NY state law I'm still technically married and probably will be for a while. But Myra knows I'm leaving and at this point we're basically just extremely awkward roommates

R: Yeah that does make me feel better actually. I know complicated shit like that happens sometimes. In NY I knew a ton of couples who broke up but had to keep living together because of rent. It's a shitty situation for everyone but that's life

R: Honestly I was over here psyching myself up to find out you were in an open marriage

E: Jesus fuck no. I'm way too paranoid about STDs for shit like that

E: Plus I have no fucking clue how people manage to convince more than one person to have sex with them at the same time

R: You ever heard of craigslist?

E: Yeah back in 2002 someone used a picture of me to catfish in the personal ads section

R: Jesus Christ how hot are you?!

E: This was 13 years ago, don't get too high on those hopes

E: But hey, if you're cool with it I'm still planning on keeping this from Myra. I mean if she finds out on her own then whatever, it'd just be awkward as fuck

R: Yeah of course, whatever you want. You're the one who has to live with her

R: And hey, maybe it'll be fun. We'll get the experience of having an affair without any of the guilt. Normally people have to do a lot of mental gymnastics for that kind of role playing

E: Oh don't worry I'm still gonna feel guilty enough for the both of us, so I hope that part does it for you too

E: I still feel like shit that I haven't told her I'm into men. I don't want to tell her I'm gay because I honestly don't know if that's true, but I just really don't want to talk to her about anything right now

R: Hey if you don't want to talk about it that's a good enough reason not to

R: Plus it sounds like you guys already had a lot of other issues without throwing that into the mix

E: Yeah even if I am gay that'll still only be the sixth biggest reason for our pending divorce

E: Whatever. She'll find out eventually. Hopefully long after I'm moved out and she starts cyber stalking me

R: Yeah about that, isn't it weird that she won't acknowledge that you're leaving? I mean, that's weird, right?

E: Oh yeah it's real fucking weird. I've been trying not to say too much shit about her cause I didn't want you to think I was just some closeted gay guy trash talking his wife, but yeah it's really freaking me out

R: I mean, does she think you'll stay if she just ignores it? Or is she so emotionally checked out that she just wants you to leave without having to talk about it?

E: Oh she's definitely not checked out. She's been cranked up to 80 these last few months

E: I mean I have clinical health anxiety so of course I married someone in the medical field, and she's always fussed over me, but recently it's been fucking insane

E: Like we had this giant fight back in February because I refused to wear a mask during flu season. I mean yeah I'm a hypochondriac but I don't need to broadcast it

E: And she does all the grocery shopping since she gets home two hours before me, and recently she hasn't been buying anything you wouldn't find in a weight loss cookbook for vegans. Even though I know she's been getting McDonald's for lunch since her car reeks of it

E: It just reminds me too much of what my mom did. And she doesn't know about all that, but it's still fucking infuriating. Just this morning she gave me shit for putting sugar in my coffee

E: And she won't stop telling everyone about my health shit. Seriously she'll tell anyone who will listen, and a lot of people who won't. Last month I was getting Facebook messages from in-laws I didn't even know existed wishing me luck on my endoscopy 

E: And I know she's been exaggerating shit because the neighbors have been treating me like I'm fucking terminal. I mean yeah I feel like shit but I'm not bedridden

R: Fuck that sounds like a really bad situation

R: I mean really really fucked up

R: I mean never mind all that shit, if she's running around acting like you're still together that's reason enough to get the fuck out

E: I know. I know I should've just moved out right away but I never saw it getting this bad

R: You know I'll be staying downtown all next week, and you're more than welcome to stay with me if you want to look for an apartment or meet with lawyers or anything

E: Fuck that sounds amazing. That might be rough for me though since I have my weird thing with restaurant food

R: I can get us a suite with a kitchen and fridge

E: I'm on a TV show right? You really are just ten writers sitting in a room trying to lure me into some honeypot aren't you?

R: Hey I'm rich and I live in a two-bedroom house and don't have kids. I can afford to blow some money on domestic rescue missions

E: You make a habit of this then?

R: Hey I already told you I was into married men. Who's to say I don't collect them?

R: Damn that was way too creepy for a late night text

E: I'll let it slide. But hey, can you tell me something honestly?

R: Sure

E: Do you really have any "business shit" in New York next week?

R: Damn I really suck at lying. I have no fucking clue how I've managed to pass for 39 years

E: I mean, I didn't want to let it go to my head, but when you used the phrase "what a weird coincidence" that really pinged my bullshit radar

R: Ok yeah, I've got jackshit to do in NY next week. I just really wanted to meet you

R: And I still do

R: I'm sorry for being weird

E: It's alright. I get it. Honestly if I were rich I probably would've done the same

E: I have no fucking clue why I like you so much

R: "Thanks," he said sarcastically.

E: But you get it right? Is this normal? I've never tried to meet people online before so I have no idea if this is what it's like

R: I've met a fair amount of people this way, but no, it's never been this like. Not even close

R: And btw if we meet up and there's nothing there I'll get you your own room. I don't want you sleeping with me for kitchen privileges

E: I can pay for my own fucking room your highness

E: Really though, thank you. Not just for this, but just being around

E: I've been really fucking freaked out these past few months. Between Myra and my health it's been, for lack of a better word, agony

E: And then you came around and I still won't believe you're real until I see you because there's no fucking way good shit like this just happens

R: It does. On occasion. One time the stars aligned just right and I photobombed a picture of Oprah. Miracles do happen

E: Still people are never this nice to me. I'm actually really scared that you'll meet me in person and realize what an asshole I am

R: Hey, people always sound worse online than in real life. And I already like you this way, so I'm sure I'll like you even more in person

R: Now tell me more about this craigslist catfishing scam

E: Yeah it was my last semester of grad school. I was at NYU and one of the photography students had this scam going where he went around asking a bunch of people if he could take pictures of them for a class project. Turns out the actual project involved making a bunch of fake dating profiles and seeing the reactions. One of those social experiment things. He got expelled

R: I know artists who've won awards for more invasive shit than that

E: Yeah it definitely influenced my decision to never make any public social media. Except a barebones Facebook page my ex set up because she thought it was weird I didn't have one

R: You're better off as a lurker. Once you start posting shit you're fucked

R: But hey, didn't we make some bullshit resolution last night about keeping things light today?

E: Yeah we really shat the bed on that one

R: Should we try again tomorrow?

E: I think we're both a bit too fucked up for that

R: Get that HBO bullshit out of here! We're more than capable of having a conversation about bad movies and dorito flavors

E: I haven't had a dorito in at least five years

R: Then I know what the fuck we're doing next week

R: But hey, I'm flying in at 3 on Monday so do you just want to meet me at the hotel after work? And I'll meet you in the lobby so you don't have to worry about me true criming you

E: Yeah that sounds good. I'll bring my pepper spray and whistle just in case

E: And I won't tell Myra I'm leaving for the week. I'll just text her after work

R: I feel like we're coordinating a bank heist

E: Yeah feels that way

E: I can't believe Monday is still 6 fucking days away. Or 5 now technically

R: Yeah time and geography are cockblocking us pretty hard right now

R: But hey you need to go the fuck to sleep

E: But consider this:

E: I don't want to 

R: Don't hit me with that cutesy shit. Get some rest. I'll text you over lunch

E: Sounds good

R: Goodnight. Sleep well

E: You too. When you get around to it


	13. May 18 - Day

**May 18, 2015, 12:32PM EST**

R: Hey are you in public?

E: I'm at work so yeah

R: Good so this is the perfect time to tell you about my STD TESTING

E: Sure go ahead. Everyone around here already knows I'm having an affair so why don't I just put you on speakerphone?

R: What tipped them off?

E: I didn't assault anyone when we ran out of staples

E: But yeah how'd your appointment go?

R: Well I'm negative on HIV and the rest will take 7-10 business days

E: Great! And honestly I'm not really worried about the other shit. If you're five months into a dry spell and still don't have any symptoms then you're probably in the clear

R: Yeah that's what my doctor said too

R: But hey they didn't give me a print out or anything, but I could probably ask for one if that'll make you feel better

E: No I'm not going to be one of those teachers who makes you get a doctor's note for a cold

E: But I will need your vaccination history, a list of all your medications, and a full physical confirming that you're the healthiest person who's ever lived

R: Give me a decade and an international team of scientists and I'll get you a full copy of my genome

E: Yeah and make sure you bring your FBI background check and horoscope chart too

E: But hey really, I'm glad you're all good

R: Yeah me too. I knew the odds were pretty low, but those 15 minutes still felt real fucking long

E: They always do

E: And I know we said we were gonna keep things light, but those 15 minutes are kind of how I've felt every day for the last three months

R: Shit I'm sorry

E: No don't enable me with sympathy. Fuck I need a shock collar or something. I actually feel close to normal today and don't want to screw myself over by psychosomaticing a heart murmur

R: Yeah no medical shit today. I'm in the clear, you're feeling better, so we're gonna talk about dumb shit and dumb shit only

R: So what should we do next week?

E: Besides lie in bed and hopefully get rid of this touch starvation tremor?

R: Ok yeah let's do that, fuck whatever I was gonna suggest

E: Did you have something in mind?

R: Yeah I bought the travel guides and everything

R: But no really, I'm cool with just hanging out. I'd really like that actually. I might hit up some friends while you're at work but besides that I think we should make full use of the room we're paying for

E: You mean the room you're paying for with money and I'm paying for with my dick?

E: But yeah after living down here for 14 years I really don't need the full staycation experience

E: By the way what years were you here?

R: 1995-2009

E: 1999-2013

R: Damn we were right on top of each other

E: Should we do that New Yorker thing where we swap 9/11 stories?

R: Sure. I was in Chicago for a comedy showcase

E: I was up in Maine visiting my mom

R: Guess we're done with that conversation

E: Good because we're only talking about light shit today

R: Works for me. So what'd you do for fun when you first moved there?

E: I sat in my shitty studio apartment and eavesdropped on couples fighting in the street

R: That's some real equal opportunity entertainment right there

R: Also how the fuck did you manage to live without a roommate on a grad stipend?!

E: Did I forget to mention that I'm 38 and still 30 fucking thousand dollars in debt?

R: Fuck, was it worth it?

E: In hindsight, no. But I really needed to live alone since I was that nightmare roommate you read about on reddit. I martyred myself with unsubsidized loans so no one else would ever have to live with me in my fucking quarantine chamber. Seriously I had enough industrial cleaning supplied to stock a home debot

R: I mean, most of my roommate horror stories involve grown-ass men puking everywhere except where they're supposed to. I would've fucking killed to live with a guy who kept the place clean enough that I wouldn't get ringworm from the carpet

E: You'd like it until I put a hit on you for leaving a dirty spoon in the sink overnight

R: Hey at least I'd die staph infection-free

E: I got a really fucked up staph infection once. I broke my arm sometime around 8th grade and somehow got dirty water in the cast and had leper sores running down my whole arm. It looked like some prosthetics and corn syrup shit

R: How'd you let water get in there?! Rule fucking one.

E: I don't know, my friends probably pushed me off a bridge or something

R: Yeah that sounds right. In high school I almost had to get my left eye removed because one of my friends kicked me in the fucking face and shattered my glasses. Drove a shard straight through my lid. I still have no fucking clue how he managed it. He could barely kick a soccer ball past first base and his feet were like doll slippers. But somehow the physics worked out just right and it's because of him that I can never wear contacts

E: What'd he kick you in the face for?

R: I don't know I probably insulted his shorts or something

E: Whatever it was I'm sure you deserved getting deoculated over it

R: Yeah probably. And it definitely wasn't the first or last time he tried

E: Sorry I have to get to a meeting in a second but I'll text you on the train

R: Sounds good! It's fun texting you at work though since all your coworkers probably think I'm the other woman

E: I'm sure they have a betting pool by now on how long it'll be before I take off my wedding ring

R: You haven't yet?

E: Yeah just cause I don't want people digging into my personal shit. But now they all think I'm fucking someone on the side so that's nice

R: Why don't we pawn it next week? That'd be a fun first date activity

E: ~~Can we trade it in for new ones?~~

E: I'm down

E: Ok I really have to go, talk to you later

R: Have fun!

**6:25PM EST**

E: Hey I'm on the train but heads up, I forgot to charge my phone after lunch and now I'm at 17% and the battery's gonna drain real fucking fast on data

R: Damn we better make it count then

R: What Light Shit should we talk about now?

E: Well I told you what I did for fun after moving to the city. It's only fair you chip in too

R: Not to brag but while you were pressure hosing your apartment I was probably doing coke with the cast of SNL. Either that or I was eating cereal with water because I couldn't afford the milk. Depended on the week

R: But really the first couple years were some bleak indie movie shit. I slept on a mattress on the floor and never did laundry cause I spent all my change on cigarettes so cheap they were practically wrapped in phonebook paper

E: What were you doing for money?

R: Whatever was around. I mentioned the call center, and I bused tables, sold weed, and went to a lot of parties for the free snacks. And I got tips for standup gigs here and there

R: Back then you could get into amateur standup nights no problem. I could show up high as shit and as long as I signed my name legibly they'd let me get on stage and blow the mic if I wanted to. Now even the shittiest venues want you sending in a demo reel for a fucking tight five

E: Well you got into it back when everyone said standup was dying and comedians weren't making shit

R: Yeah Netflix really saved our asses on that one

R: But I remember walking four miles for a gig once because I couldn't afford the subway and that's just how it was for a few years

E: Would your parents have sent you money?

R: No I asked them once but they definitely thought I was gonna blow it on drugs cause they told me I should just wait til they sent a check for my birthday in four months

R: I mean I can't get on their asses for it. They paid for me to go to community college to figure out what the fuck I wanted to do, but I dropped out after a year because a teacher hurt my feelings. So I took a greyhound down to New York and looked for an apartment in the fucking classifieds and called up landlords from a pay phone. Couldn't fucking imagine a world where I could click an app on my phone and sleep on a stranger's couch for $20

R: Shit sorry I was supposed to be talking about light shit wasn't I

E: Hey, rough estimate, how many times have you almost been the victim in the first five minutes of a law & order episode?

R: They could've gotten a whole season out of me. Once I went home with a guy who lived in an abandoned factory where a bunch of people set up generators and shit and he somehow managed to get one of those horse trailers inside and said something about it once being used for some famous Hollywood horse from Blazing Saddles and he showed me this album full of letters he said Naomi Campbell wrote him then he asked if I wanted some eggs and -

[Dead Battery]


	14. May 18 - Night

R: - pulled out a whole ass hot plate and made me scrambled eggs and sprinkled some salt on his dick and told me to lick it off and I did. Then I tried heading out but it was below zero and I didn't have change for the subway so I befriended a nice lady with her own generator who taught me how to crochet and I can't remember if I actually slept or not but the next morning I was walking home and some guy threw a hairbrush at me from his car

**8:15PM EST**

E: Ok just so you know, my phone died right at the eggs part

R: I figured. But I was also 43% sure you finally blocked my number and sterilized your phone

E: You'll have to do a lot worse than that to get rid of me

E: Still can't believe you sucked his dick though

R: He already made me the eggs! It was only polite

E: No offense but I definitely wouldn't have been into you back then

R: Yeah I probably wouldn't have been into you either. But at the time I was fucking a lot of guys like you now. 30 or 40 somethings who got all their shit dry cleaned and got apartments in the city for when they were "too tired to drive home"

E: Fuck there was one guy I worked with at my last job when I was 26. He wasn't my boss but he was adjacent salary wise and he had an inheritance from the Pierpont's so he was fucking loaded. And he wasn't married and didn't have kids so he just blew all his money on buying expensive shit for his friends

E: So once he invited me and a bunch of other guys to a party at his fucking museum of an apartment on the upper east side where he hired acrobats to do sex bondage tutorials and the knot work was actually pretty cool. Then I drank half a bottle of $500 bourbon and he told me to take the rest home

R: You mean I sucked a guy's dick for a plate of eggs and meanwhile you were getting top shelf shit as a fucking party favor?!

E: Yeah that's the class division of grad school

R: Damn I really shouldn't have dropped out before even getting through my gen eds

E: Yeah by the way, what fucked up shit did your teacher have to say to get you to drop out?

R: He told me to stop bringing food to class

E: That's it?

R: He said it with a mean tone. I was very sensitive

E: That the ADHD?

R: I fucking hope so. Otherwise I was just being a little bitch

R: But yeah I also had a crush on him so when he didn't call on me I took it real fucking hard

E: How can you do standup if one person being slightly mean to you is enough to literally drive you out of town?

R: Hey there were other factors. I wasn't that hung up

R: But yeah I can't figure it out either. I really don't mind when strangers say mean shit about me, but if someone I like does something rude like let his phone die and not respond to my texts for two hours then I start submitting applications to nearby monasteries

E: Hey when you don't respond to my texts right away I worry that you're dead, so really neither of us should be allowed to have phones

R: I'm glad they let us though

R: It's only 6pm over here but talking to you always makes me so fucking tired. I usually doze off right after saying goodnight

R: It just doesn't feel right to get up and do shit afterwards

R: It's really nice

E: Hey, can I tell you something?

R: Sure what's up?

E: I've been touching myself for the last half hour

R: Wow now I know how girls feel when they get dick pics

E: Fuck sorry I should've asked first

R: No I'm into it! But I sort of feel like my uber driver just did an illegal u-turn

E: You'd probably still give him 5 stars

R: I wasn't raised in a fucking barn

R: But hey, you gonna tell me more or were you just planning to carpet bomb me and leave?

E: Honestly it took me half an hour to work up the nerve just to tell you. I didn't develop a contingency plan for after

R: Half an hour is a long time. You ok?

E: Yeah I'm good

E: You want details?

R: I feel like I'm on a phone sex line and my five minutes are going to expire before we even get past the what are you wearing question

E: I'm wearing black sweatpants and a grey t-shirt. Basically the default sleep clothes every guy in a movie wears

R: I'm wearing that dress J Lo wore to the 2000 Grammys that led to the invention of google images

E: Ok now I'm actually picturing it

R: Ok never mind, I'm wearing pretty much exactly what you're wearing. Except a blue shirt instead of grey. And there's some bar logo on it

E: Great. Your five minutes are up

R: That was more than five minutes

E: It's a marketing strategy. I gave you a bit longer to make you think I liked you

R: Keep going and just add this to my tab along with the student loans and the palm reading

E: Cool, we'll cash out next week

R: Are you going to ask for my credit card info now or are you going to tell me what you're doing to yourself?

E: I've just been teasing myself over my sweatpants. Just when I'm waiting for a reply

R: You've been at it for a long time though

E: Yeah they're getting kind of damp

R: You're that far along?

E: Not really. But the people I've been with say I get wetter than most guys

R: Jesus Christ

R: That basically just shot viagra straight through my spine like an epidural 

E: And are you going to do anything about it?

R: Well I'll probably take longer to reply now since I'm using my left hand

E: And what are you doing with your right?

R: Don't you have an imagination?

E: If I wanted to use my imagination I'd go back to the 90s and watch scrambled porn on the playboy channel

R: How are you replaying so fast??

E: Ambidextrous 

R: Of course you fucking are

E: Hey I'm really fucking turned on right now and I need you to say some dirty shit to me right fucking now

R: Shit keep talking like that

E: Tell me how you want to suck my cock

R: Deep

R: I want you to fuck my face

R: While I rub off on your leg

E: That's a weird angle

R: It's not real we'll manage

E: Are you gonna make a mess on my leg?

R: I'm waiting for you to come down my throat

E: What if I want to come on your face?

R: Wherever I'm just so hard it hurts

E: I want you to moan around my cock

R: I will

E: I'm going to fuck your mouth so hard next week

R: Please

R: Fuck almost

R: Please tell me to come

E: Not yet

R: Please

E: Swallow my cum first

E: Ok I'm done. I'm over it. I'm a new person now

R: Yeah same

E: Sorry to throw that at you with no build up

E: I was planning to work it in sometime around the sex bondage, but I flaked out and by then we'd already moved on to your ADHD so yeah sorry for the whiplash

R: Hey no complaints from me

R: I was hoping we'd get to that sometime before next week

E: As a test run?

R: More like a preview

R: You're really good at that by the way

E: Thanks. I hadn't done it before so I guess I'm just a natural

R: Really? You've never been in a long distance relationship or anything?

E: No, but by the time I got a smartphone I was already dating Myra

R: That's fair. I once tried sexting on a 2006 blackberry 8700. You really needed both hands to type so it was more of a pillow humping situation

E: That must've been nostalgic

R: Yeah really brought me back to 7th grade. I felt like my parents could hear the bed creaking from four states away

E: When I was 14 my mom found the vaseline I hid under my bed so she took my door off its hinges

R: JESUS CHRIST FUCKING WHAT

E: Yeah and for a month after she only let me take five minute showers

R: Did she duct tape mittens on your hands too??

E: A few times when I was really little yeah. Maybe five or six

R: That's some bible belt home school shit

E: Yeah and what's weird is we weren't even religious. I mean we were vaguely Christian in that way all white small towns are, but we didn't pray over meals or anything

R: So what was her issue then?

E: What wasn't her issue

E: But yeah I'm starting to think my debilitating fear of sex didn't exactly grow out of a test tube

E: I mean it's a lot better now than it was 15 years ago, but it still kicks my ass every now and then

R: I'm sorry you had to grow up like that

R: Did you have to sleep without a door til college?

E: No she put it back on when my aunt came to visit a few months later and never bothered taking it off again. But she still went through my backpack every day when I came home to make sure I wasn't sneaking in contraband

E: One time a friend stole an erotic novel from a garage sale and put it in my bag as a joke and my mom tore it up and burned it

R: Jesus, that's really fucking scary. I mean my mom was just a high-functioning alcoholic with an eating disorder but she never did any shit like that

E: Damn we really blew it on the pillow talk didn't we

R: Eh whatever. I mainly sleep with married guys so I'm used to it turning into a trauma swap

E: I don't sleep with married men and it usually turns out like that anyway

E: I've just been feeling real fucking weird the last few days. Not bad weird. Not medical weird. Just out of fucking nowhere I can't stop thinking about being a kid

E: This morning I was just reaching for a pen when this memory hit me of being in 10th grade and sitting at my desk taking a bio final. I remembered what the room looked like, and that it was raining. I remember how fucking stressed I was and that my pencil was too dull. And I know remembering shit like that is completely normal but it was so vivid it felt like teleporting or some shit

R: That's so fucking weird. I've been having the same thing

R: Yesterday I dropped a plate in the sink and it broke and I had this flashback to being a kid and accidentally knocking my mom's wine glass off the table. Then I kept looking around my kitchen and remembering all this other shit. Like my sister fainting in front of the fridge when I was about 7. And my parents freaking out because there was a mouse in the sink. And it just kept going and going 

E: Glad it's not just me, but that's also freaky as shit

E: I don't think I've ever thought about being a kid this much. Sure of course I have memories, but they've never gut-punched me like this before

R: Yeah same. I mean I don't hate it. Maybe it's just some mid-life crisis thing. My brain hitting me with all this shit to remind me how fucking old I am

E: Yeah maybe. Or maybe I'm going to die soon and I'm already getting the flashback montage

R: Or maybe we just had really messed up childhoods and talking about them is bringing a lot of shit to the surface

E: Sure let's go with that

R: Yeah I've honestly been in a really messed up daze. Just lying around remembering all this stuff I forgot

R: Sometimes not even actual memories. Just sensory shit

R: Like sitting in the backseat for hours and looking out the window and never getting bored. Thinking about who lived in all the houses and what was under the bridges and counting all the power lines. And not knowing where the fuck we were but knowing we could've pulled off anywhere and I would've started exploring

E: I remember rubbing mud on my face and not thinking about germs. And walking through bushes and not thinking about ticks. I remember not thinking about a lot of things. Hell one time I was playing in a river and got a leech on my foot and just pulled it off and didn't give a shit

E: It's hard to believe that at one point I wasn't scared of literally everything

E: I want to go back to that so fucking bad

R: Me too. It's probably just nostalgia, but I think I was pretty happy as a kid, even if my family had some issues

R: God the weirdest shit is that I don't feel like I've changed much. I mean sure I can change a tire and buy my own groceries, but besides that I feel the same now as I did at 15. I mean I know I've changed, but I feel the same

E: Yeah it's weird. I always assumed that everything before 18 was just some assembly phase, but looking back, I wasn't just some half-baked lump of cells. I was a whole ass person

R: Yeah I know the feeling. It's hard to believe I'm the same person as that little shit. I can't believe he's still in my head. I don't know why it's so hard for me to wrap my head around the idea that I didn't become a different person just because I stopped growing

E: Jesus if phone sex is enough to bring out all this shit then the real thing is gonna fuck us up hard

R: Yeah we'll probably have to take periodic breaks for journaling

E: Well I missed therapy this week since I was out sick on Monday, so I guess it was only a matter of time

E: But it's weird that I've never talked to any of my therapists about shit like this. Not cause I was trying to hide it. It just never occurred to me

E: Like it never fucking hit me that I felt like more of a complete person as a kid than I do now. Now I don't even know who I am outside of the hypochondria and my resume

R: Yeah we don't even have personalities anymore. We're just the sum of our conditions

E: Ok that's too fucking much for me right now

R: Sorry I'll dial it back

R: But yeah it's weird. Even just lying in bed and jerking off, I kept thinking about doing it when I was a kid. I didn't even know I had memories of that. But I must've done it at least 15,000 times so I guess some of them were bound to stick

E: There's a joke in there

R: Yeah but I'm too tired

E: What do you mean you're tired? It's only 7:45 over there

R: Talking to you makes me tired. And getting off makes me tired. And if I go to sleep now I'll wake up before you go on lunch

E: Oh yeah that reminds me, I probably won't be able to text you over lunch because I have a doctor's appointment, but I'll be free during my break at 3

R: Sounds good. But if you start freaking out in the waiting room you'll text me right?

E: Of course

E: I really want to kiss you right now

R: I'd like that

E: I want to fall asleep with you

R: You kind of are

E: Yeah I just want to see you so fucking badly

R: I do too. We're almost there

E: No we're not, it's only fucking Wednesday. And time's been moving real fucking slow lately

R: Yeah I feel like I'm 12 again and waiting for summer

E: Yeah that's exactly what it feels like

R: You should go to sleep now

E: Yeah you too

R: Goodnight then

E: Goodnight

R: ❤️

R: Was that too much?

E: Dude we just had fucking phone sex, you can send me a goddamn emoji

R: You didn't send it back though

E: You gave me like five seconds and the hearts are at the back of the menu

R: Just type out heart

E: ❤️

E: Happy?

R: :) 


	15. May 19 - Day

**May 19, 2015, 8:20AM EST**

R: I think I just had a dream about you

R: Or maybe it was just some white guy with brown hair

E: Don't you have to see someone before you can dream about them?

R: We overlapped in NY for ten years. We could've seen each other around

E: What'd I look like?

R: Fuck I can't remember

R: White with brown hair

E: Oh yeah definitely me

E: What was I doing?

R: I think you were ranting about how public pools will give you polio

E: Definitely me

R: And we were in this abandoned house that's in my hometown. But someone turned it into one of those haunted houses that pop up in abandoned malls during halloween

R: And your face was turning purple and you couldn't breathe but you kept trying to warn me about smallpox and herd immunity

R: Ok on second thought it was more of a nightmare than a dream

E: That's weird cause I actually did have asthma when I was younger. I remember I had to carry an inhaler everywhere, but I must've outgrown it at some point

R: Yeah I think I had a friend like that

R: Sorry I'm gonna go back to sleep now. Maybe the dream will pick up where it left off

E: Where'd it leave off?

R: Blood started coming out of the sink

R: Ok on second thought maybe I should get up and have some cereal

E: I get really fucked up nightmares too. I forget them right away, but I know I'm always a kid in them

R: Yeah me too. Guess everything's scarier when you're a kid

E: Not for me. I'm glad kid-me didn't know that one day he'd be scared of everything. I'm glad he got to have fun

R: I'm sure he's grateful you didn't tell him

E: Sorry I have to get off now

R: You're getting off without me??

E: Eat your cereal

**12:11PM EST**

E: I'm in the waiting room now. Just waiting. As the name implies

R: Want a distraction?

E: That's what I keep you around for

R: Want me to tell you about the time I spent the night in the basement of a used bookstore and read all of Anne Rice's first sleeping beauty cover to cover?

E: I'd like that. But the nurse just called me in

R: Is she hot?

**3:02PM EST**

E: It was a guy

R: Question still stands

E: Don't know. It was hard to tell if he had an ass under the scrubs

R: What about the face?

E: I wouldn't say he was out of anyone's league

R: Ouch. What about bedside manner? That's the real make or break

E: Well he tried making small talk about my job, so no I don't think I'll be calling him back

R: Eh you win some you lose some

R: How'd the rest of it go?

E: Well my check engine light is still blinking. They did more bloodwork for a bunch of shit I don't even remember. I repeated my symptoms, found out I lost two more pounds, and we called it a day

R: Shit I'm sorry. Are you holding up ok?

E: Honestly, I feel like I'm being held together by toothpicks

R: Two pounds could easily just be water weight

E: Yeah that's what I keep telling myself

R: What'd your doctor say about next steps

E: He said we'll get the lab results on Monday and figure shit out from there. But I don't think he has any fucking clue what to do with me. I'm starting to feel like that hard problem on a test that you keep skipping and coming back to

R: Hey I promise you'll be ok. Bodies are tough as shit. I once had pneumonia and the flu at the same time and a concussion from doing some dumb shit on a fire escape. I didn't go to the hospital since I couldn't even afford the taxi, but I made it through on ibuprofen and nyc tap water

E: You're a fucking idiot. But that actually does make me feel better

R: Want me to say you'll be ok again?

E: Sure

R: You'll be ok

E: I just wish I fucking knew what it was. If it's a chronic thing then I'll deal with it. I just fucking hate not knowing

R: They'll figure it out. And hey maybe it'll pass. Sometimes bodies just do shit like this for no reason

E: Yeah and I made it to 38 with barely a cold so I guess I'm just paying my dues now

E: By the way my boss approved my part-time request. He said I can work remotely for a month. If I'm not in better shape by then we'll have a lot of shit to work out

R: That's great! I mean not great since the circumstances are shitty, but that should give you enough time to sort things out with Myra right?

E: Yeah probably

E: We can talk about it more later, but I was thinking that maybe I should just move out next week

R: Officially?

E: Yeah

E: I can pack up whatever shit I need and drive down on Monday and spend the week looking for a new place. I should be able to at least find a sublet or something by the end of the week

R: I'm on board! And hey if you're feeling shitty next week I can scout out place for you. You know, check for mold and rough up the landlords

E: Why are you being so fucking generous?

R: Because I want you to be happy

R: And if you can't find a place by Sunday I don't mind putting you up in the hotel longer

R: I could stay with you til you find a place. I really don't have shit to do in LA til mid-June

E: I'm sure I'll find something in a week. Property here moves fast. But hey, you could stay with me til mid-June anyway. If you want

E: I mean don't go rebooking your ticket, but if you want to stay with me you can. It's only fair since you're easily blowing a month's salary on me

R: Yeah I'd really like that

E: Sorry I have to clear out the inbox of this whole fucking company but I'll text you on the train

R: Sounds good

R: And hey, you really are going to be ok. I promise

**6:18PM EST**

E: Hey I'm on the train now

E: And I could really use a distraction

R: Why what's up? Mariachi band?

E: If a mariachi band walked on right now only one of us would wind up in jail for disturbing the peace and it wouldn't be them

E: But no it's just my appointment really fucked with my head and being crammed in with a lot of people is fucking with it even more

R: Why? Germs?

E: Yeah

E: I don't like being in crowded places where you can't get out. Trains, the subway, planes, networking events where they lock the doors behind you and force you to eat day-old fruit plates, that sort of thing

R: Wait so why'd you move to NY if shit like that freaks you out? I think Hurricane Sandy is the first time that place got cleaned since the Dutch bought Manhattan

E: NYU gave me the best funding, but cost of living cancelled it out anyway. Then I got a job right before graduating so I decided to stick around

E: I thought about leaving. I wanted to. But my mom hated New York and refused to visit so I figured I'd stay to piss her off

R: That's a great reason

E: Yeah and also leaving felt like giving up. I mean sure I could've moved to some small town where I could've kept everyone in a ten foot radius, but I knew if I started living like that then I'd never feel safe in a big city again. And the safer I made things the more scared I'd get. It's like how I still eat meat even though I'm terrified of food poisoning. I'm so scared I can't even enjoy it really. But if I stop eating it that feels like losing. And if I give up meat then I'll have to give up the next thing and the next thing until all I'm left with are calorie supplements and vitamins

R: Well at least you have an excuse for when the vegans come for us all

R: But hey stop dwelling on this shit, you wanted a distraction right?

E: Yeah so you were reading Anne rice porn in a basement and then...

R: So hey this is actually my 9/11 story

R: So I got invited to this comedy showcase out in Chicago but it got cancelled last minute because duh 9/11. But the thing is I was really counting on the tips from that show to book a hostel for the night. And plan B was cozying up with one of the other comics and crashing at their place

R: All the buses back to NY were cancelled because again 9/11, and I only had about $18 in cash so I called my roommate to get a status update then just started wandering around killing time

R: So I went into this used bookstore and browsed for a while. Went down into the basement where they kept all the mysteries and horror and romances, basically not a hardcover in sight. So I went through all the rows and wrote down some of the funniest titles just in case I wanted to use them for a bit

R: And there was this really noisy cat that kept meowing at me from this nook under the stairs so I grabbed a copy of sleeping beauty that was in the fantasy section for some reason (but I guess still technically right) and went to chill under the stairs and pet the cat

R: I spent hours skimming through it and scribbling notes like I was working on a goddamn book report

R: And I figured they'd come down and kick me out when it was time to close, but suddenly the lights went out and for a second I freaked out that the same shit that was happening in NY and DC was happening there too

R: But then I realized they just didn't know I was down there so I got up to leave but remembered I had nowhere to go, so after I was sure the owner was gone I turned the light back on and kept reading

R: I slept for a couple hours before they opened again, and once there were a few customers around I put up my hood and left

R: I didn't pay for the book since I was scared they'd recognize me, but it was only a dollar so I figured they could spare it

R: I still have it. And I did manage to get a 5 minute bit out of it. I wish I'd gotten my hands on it back before everyone knew it was Anne rice. It would've been cool to bring it back after that plot twist

E: When'd you manage to get back to NY?

R: I could've gone back after a few days but I decided to stay in Chicago for a week to see how things played out. I met a guy in a bar that night and told him my sob story and he put me up. We didn't fuck or anything. He was just a genuinely nice guy

E: I wish I was brave enough to do shit like that

R: Read porn in a basement?

E: Get on a bus with only $18 knowing I didn't have anywhere to sleep

R: I'm not nearly as brave now as I used to be. I wouldn't do shit like that now

E: Yeah but at least you did it. I missed my window. I'm not saying I want to do shit like that, it'd just be nice to make it to 40 with at least a few substantial memories besides marriage, graduation, and my mom's funeral

R: Exciting lives aren't always happy ones. Usually they aren't

E: But do you regret any of it?

R: I mean if I'd ended up dead from that time I was dicking around on the fire escape then yeah I sure as hell would've regretted it. Or if I ended up with brain damage from snorting some shit I shouldn't have then yeah I'd regret it. But since I'm alive and still have both my lungs I'm obligated to say that I can't regret any of it since it all got me where I am

R: But that doesn't necessarily mean I'm happy

R: But I think I could be happy. If I put in the effort

E: How much?

R: Well what I've got going with you is the most effort I've put into a relationship in over a decade, friendship or otherwise. And I'm happier now than I've been in a while so thanks for that

E: I mean we text for at least five hours a day. That's no small commitment

R: But that's what you're supposed to do. At the beginning at least. Or at least that's what you're supposed to want to do

E: I never did. Before now talking was always my least favorite part. And I always figured that if I just stuck things out long enough with whoever I was dating then we'd eventually get to the phase where talking wasn't important anymore and we could just enjoy the relationship for what it was. But that backfired in the form of a 21-month marriage

R: You really thought you'd get to a phase where talking wasn't important?

E: I figured we'd both run out of things to say at some point

R: Yeah and that's usually where you cut things off

E: Yeah that's what my exes did. And they were a lot smarter than me. Don't know why Myra didn't do the same

E: God just saying this shit out loud makes me feel like a fucking idiot

R: No I get it

R: I mean the main reason I haven't come out yet is because I've been waiting for someone who'd make it worth it. Granted I haven't looked very hard. That's kind of what I meant by putting in the effort

R: I always wanted something perfect handed to me on a platter. I knew shit like that didn't exist, but that gave me an excuse to keep fucking around with closet cases

E: I'm a closet case

R: Maybe I just have a type then

E: Hey at least you're sleeping with men. That's farther than I ever got

E: I'm at my stop

E: Text you again in an hour or two?

R: I'll be here


	16. May 19 - Night

**May 19, 2015, 8:43PM EST**

E: So Myra knows I'm moving out

R: Yeah I'd hope so. Considering you told her back in January

R: But did you let it slip that you're hauling ass on Monday?

E: Yeah

E: I really need to see a chiropractor because apparently I don't have a fucking spine

E: She was talking about driving up to Norwich next week for her mom's birthday and kept asking me when we should leave what we should bring as if I was fucking coming. I should've just told her I wasn't going since we're not fucking together anymore, but I knew she'd guilt me with her dad's Parkinson's diagnosis, so I told her I already booked a hotel in the city to look for an apartment

R: How'd she take it? I mean you clearly still have both your thumbs and hopefully all your other appendages too

E: She cried. I think it's the first time I've seen her cry since I told her back in January. I hope that means reality is finally sinking in

E: I didn't tell her about you though. She'd have to waterboard me before I let that slip

R: At least it's over with. I mean yeah it'll be awkward for the next few days but at least you're on the same page now

E: Yeah and she works on saturdays and sundays so I won't have to see her much anyway

E: God I just want to get the fuck out of here

E: This is almost worse than being stuck with my sophomore roommate. He had bible quotes all over the wall but jerked off in front of me at least twice a day. I was counting down the seconds til I could get out of there

R: Hey if he was jerking off in front of you why didn't you join him?

E: Based on the porn he was watching I don't think he would've appreciated it

R: You'd be surprised. Straight guys are weird as shit. I once had a straight roommate who I swapped handjobs with whenever he was between girlfriends

R: By the way is it true what you said on the train? About not sleeping with men before?

E: Hey you can't just casually mention handing out complimentary handjobs then change the subject

E: But yeah it's true

E: Honestly I forgot I hadn't told you already

R: Not that it's a big deal or anything. It's just that between the flirting and the phone sex I figured you had to have at least a few guys under your belt

R: Shit I need to write that down

E: Ok you got a pity laugh out of me on that one

E: But no I've never had any other guys in my closet

R: I never would've known

E: You would've when we met

E: Maybe it doesn't translate over text, but I'm so fucking nervous. More nervous than I've been about meeting anyone before

R: If it makes you feel better, it doesn't come through at all

R: But hey I'm really fucking nervous too, so maybe we'll cancel each other out

E: Seriously I can't stop rehearsing it in my head. What I'm going to say, what I'll wear. Remember last night when you said you had a hard time wrapping your head around the idea that you didn't become a different person just because you grew up? Well it's hard for me to process that the person I'm meeting on Monday is the same person I'm talking to right now

R: Yeah it's always weird at first. I mean everyone sounds different in person than they do like this. But we'll figure it out. And if you like me better this way we can always text each other from across the room and pretend we're shooting a black mirror episode

E: God I hope we don't end up like that. Texting is slow as fuck. And there's so much shit I want to say

R: Yeah if we keep this up much longer we'll wind up in some viral facebook article about the dangers of texting and thumb arthritis

R: But yeah last night I actually read through our entire conversation from beginning to end and it only took me a bit over an hour. Everything we've said we easily could've said in a day. Or even one date

E: Yeah that's why I'm worried we'll run out of things to say

R: Don't worry I know how to keep a conversation going. We're good

R: Hey, feel free not to answer this, but can I ask why you decided to wait til now? If there is a reason

E: I have reasons, but I don't know if they're any good

R: That's ok forget about it

E: No I want to tell you. It's just that nothing's really coherent at the moment

R: Yeah I'm on board with you there

R: I know based on my slutty anecdotes you'd think I was out here organizing parades, but I'm really the worst fucking closet case I know

R: I mean I can't get coffee with a male acquaintance without scanning for security cameras

R: When I watch porn I lock my bedroom door even though I live alone

R: And honestly I'm relieved to just hang out in the hotel with you next week because I don't want you to see the cagey bastard I turn into in public

E: I mean you're in the public eye. Who wouldn't be cagey?

R: No this is some next level shit

R: Just so you know what you're getting into

E: Dude I don't even have public social media, what makes you think I want anyone to know I exist? Half the people in my office wouldn't even know I was married if I didn't wear a ring

R: It's not just about hiding it from other people though

R: Internally I've got a lot of shit to deal with

R: I mean I'm a lot better now than I was in my 20s. I used to puke after sex maybe one in eight times. Although the booze probably skewed the data

E: I used to have panic attacks maybe one in five times, so statistically you were more well-adjusted than I was

R: So you're the guy with the stats MA. What're the odds that we'll have a real mess on our hands next week?

E: It's an MS

E: And there are a lot of variables but based on those probabilities we only have a 2.5% chance of both things happening at once

R: Just to be safe you bring the klonopin and I'll bring the wet wipes

R: But yeah I never bothered trying to date women. I knew they'd see through my bullshit immediately

E: I've only dated women

R: And how's that been for you?

E: I mean, it's not bad. It's been alright

R: Wow don't choke on all that enthusiasm 

E: Why don't you fuck off and go choke on something else

E: But yeah, I said I had reasons, but I don't know if they're any good

R: Tell me anyway?

E: Sure why not

E: My mom was a big one. I knew that if she found out I'd get written out of the will. Not that she had any money. But she was the only person on earth who loved me, and I didn't want to lose that

R: Well fuck when you put it that way

E: Yeah

E: I kept telling myself that I'd start dating men after she died. And with all her health shit I'm surprised she made it past 60

E: But then she died and a month later I started going out with Myra

R: And it was love at first sight?

E: No I saw her all the time for two years before we started going out. She was my pharmacist. She gave me a flu shot six months before asking me out

R: Kinky

E: Yeah and my girlfriend before her was a NICU nurse. I definitely have a type

R: I got an A in sophomore biology if that does anything for you

E: Honestly all I want now is to date someone who doesn't know jackshit about pathogenesis

E: But yeah my mom's death messed me up a lot more than I thought it would. I was so relieved when I finally got the call, but after the funeral it hit me that no one else in the world loved me and there was nothing I could do about it

E: Myra loved me though. And I think she still does. I have no idea why though

R: I think it'd be easy to fall in love with you

E: You like sarcastic assholes who disinfect their phone cases twice a day?

R: I like a lot of things about you

R: But how'd you go from getting a flu shot from Myra to marrying her?

E: Fuck if I know. I think there were dates. Maybe a couple conversations. I think a wedding planner was involved at one point

E: Seriously I have no fucking clue where all the time went. I feel like I've spent the last four years driving on an empty freeway

R: Yeah I'm with you there

R: I can't believe I'm turning 40 next March and I'm still on stage pretending I have any fucking clue what pussy tastes like

E: Salty

R: Wow it's like I'm there

E: Yeah so what's your deal? I can at least get hard for women but it sounds like you're fucking useless

R: Yeah it's pretty pathetic

R: I'm sure half of LA knows by now. My manager definitely knows. I mean when you've been working with a guy for 13 years and he still can't remember when the super bowl is that raises some flags

E: Wait didn't your manager set you up on a date with that writer?

R: No that was my agent. They're two different jobs. My agent begs people to work with me and my manager begs me to work with them

E: So they're basically your parents. Why don't they just marry each other and adopt you?

R: If they weren't both already married I'm sure we'd have a family portrait by now

E: You must pass pretty well though. If you've managed to get away with it this long

R: I don't pass for shit. I'm basically a walking bingo card

E: At least you're self-aware

R: Yeah I have no fucking clue how I've managed to keep it up. Anyone with access to google could figure out that all of my girlfriends live up in Canada

E: So would coming out jettison your career?

R: Probably not. Sure I'd lose a chunk of my audience but the publicity would probably gain me a lot more. And I'm sure my act would be a lot funnier if I started talking about all those handjobs I swapped with my roommate

E: I'd watch that

R: Yeah you and everyone else above a 2 on the kinsey scale

R: But I don't fucking know really

R: It's stupid, but even when I was making $5.15 an hour at the call center I had this stupid idea that I'd be famous one day, and I wasn't going to get there by making jokes about the handkerchief code. But now that shit would go over just fine

R: I keep coming up with stupid gay jokes about myself and typing them out in twitter and saving them in my drafts. I have a full fucking hour of material just sitting here on my phone

E: But do you actually want to come out?

R: No but I feel like I have to. In the same way that parents have to turn off the wifi to get their kids out of the house

R: I always told myself that I'd come out once I found the right person. That it'd be stupid to put all my cards on the table for someone who wasn't going to stick around long. But that gave me an excuse to keep fucking around with guys who practically had Unavailable tattooed on their dicks. Now I'm almost 40 and there are fucking 12-year-olds who've had more committed relationships than me

E: And you never met anyone who you thought might be worth it?

R: Can't say I have

E: Maybe that's for the best. When you've got nothing to lose it's easy to make a lot of fucked up decisions

R: That how you ended up with Myra?

E: More or less

E: It wasn't all bad at first. I liked her because she wasn't weirded out by all my bullshit

E: My last girlfriend broke up with me because she wanted to travel, but I can't stay anywhere more than half an hour from a hospital. And my girlfriend before her found out I was getting tested for STDs without telling her. It's not that I thought she was cheating on me. I just have fucking worms in my brain

E: But Myra didn't care about any of that. She encouraged it. When I stopped eating peanuts because I got an itch in my throat she just got me some Benadryl and never bought peanut butter again

E: Basically she enabled me

R: I mean, I wasn't gonna say it but yeah

E: Yeah I knew what she was doing. But I thought it's what I needed at the time. I thought it's what I'd always need

E: When I was younger my mom treated me like I was one bad sneeze away from death. I guess I started to believe her after a while

R: Yeah I was gonna say it sounds like Myra is doing a lot of the same shit your mom did

E: Yeah it's honestly freaking me out. I know my mom was fucking awful, but I honestly don't remember much from growing up with her. Or at least I didn't. But all these memories keep coming back and each one is worse than the next

R: I know exactly what you mean

R: I feel like I'm a videogame character with amnesia and the more I talk to you the more of my fucked up backstory I unlock

E: Shit I just remembered the time my mom ordered a pizza and ate it all in her room then gave me a sweet potato for dinner

R: That's like 100 calories!

E: I was 5'1 until 11th grade

R: Shit

R: I mean my parents suck in their own way but they're just republicans. They didn't fucking starve me

E: Yeah my mom was over 400 pounds when she died and had pretty much every lifestyle-induced disease in the book. When I got to college I'd sometimes go days without eating because I was so scared of the dining hall food

R: That's fucking awful

E: Yeah and I'm honestly not much better now. It's gotten a lot worse with all my recent shit

R: It'll get better. I know I keep promising that but it's true. It'll get better once you're not living with her anymore

E: It fucking better

E: And honestly my mom isn't the only reason I stuck with women

E: Feel free to call me out for being sexist, but I trust women a lot more than men

R: I mean yeah I do too. I don't think that hot take is going to get you kicked out of NOW

E: You know the janitor at my office told me that he's only had to refill the soap in the men's room three times in the last year. How the fuck am I supposed to trust men with important shit if I can't even trust them to wash their fucking hands?

R: I mean that's not a weird stance at all. I know a few bi guys who prefer dating women because they're better company

E: I don't think I am bi though. Or maybe I am if we're being technical about it. But I've never been in love with a woman before and at this point I don't think it's going to happen

R: It can be confusing. Or so I've heard. I'm lucky in that I managed to skip out on most of the soul searching

E: But it honestly wasn't that confusing for me. Not until recently at least. But ever since you started texting me I keep remembering all this shit

E: I always thought I started liking guys around college, but now I remember having a huge ass crush on this kid in fucking elementary school

E: I remember touching his hair all the time. It was like this game where I'd try to sneak up behind him and see how long I could play with his hair before he noticed. I can't remember doing any shit like that with girls

R: Yeah I've been remembering a lot of shit like that too. I had a crush on one of my friends and wanted to touch him all the fucking time

R: I remember this one time we went camping and I must've only been 10 or 11, but I remember sharing a tent with him and watching him sleep and wanting to crawl inside his sleeping bag so badly

E: Shit I just remembered accidentally wearing one of his shirts home and jerking off with it before washing and returning it

E: I can't remember ever being into anyone else like that. I mean I started antidepressants in college so maybe that calmed things down. Or maybe I just grew out of it, I don't know

R: Yeah recently I kind of feel like I'm just chasing the high of being in middle school

R: I mean I was in love with this kid. Really fucking in love with him for years and years

E: Yeah I was in love with this other kid too. And in hindsight I think he might've liked me back. But it was a small town in Maine so what could you do?

R: I personally wrote a lot of depressing journal entries, burned them, then cried while jerking off

E: That's just a Tuesday for me

E: And yeah, this may come as a surprise to you, but I'm also terrified of AIDS. Bone-chilling nightmare-inducing terrified. That was definitely a factor too

R: I mean if you have contamination OCD then yeah of course. And your mom probably didn't help on that front either

E: Yeah there was this small gay bar in my town and on my way home from school my mom made me walk a couple extra blocks to avoid it. And there was a gay check out clerk at the grocery store and my mom warned me not to use his aisle because if he accidentally scratched me while handing back my change he'd give me AIDS

R: I'm seriously running out of different ways to say Jesus Fucking Christ

E: Yeah and now I can't get a runny nose without worrying that my immune system is breaking down

E: God there's this fucking nightmare I keep having. About this guy who's skin is falling off his body. And just looking at him I know he has every disease in the world. And I'm always a kid in the dreams. Sometimes he'll tie me down and fill a needle with his blood and inject me with it. Or sometimes he'll just fuck me. One time he threw up in my mouth and I was lucky I was sleeping on my side because it made me puke in my sleep

R: Well fuck whatever basic ass nightmare I was gonna mention

E: No carry on

R: Ok I've got nothing on that, but recently I keep getting this nightmare where I'm a kid and this bully from my school keeps following me around and calling me a fag and all this other shit. And if I stop walking he'll kill me, so I just keep going and pass through all these other towns and he just keeps talking and the farther I walk the more people I pass and they all hear it and know everything he's saying is right. But whenever I stop walking he slits my throat and that's when I wake up

R: Fuck I barely remembered that kid until recently. I don't think he even knew I was into guys. I think those were just the default lines he threw at everyone, but it really fucked with me for some reason

E: Yeah I'm starting to think Freud was onto something. I think my childhood messed me up a lot more than I gave it credit for

R: Yeah I don't know why I never put all this shit together. It's so fucking obvious. But at least I figured it out myself without paying out the ass for therapy

R: I have a lot of happy memories though. They've been coming back too. I mean the kid I was in love with really was my best friend, and I was so fucking happy around him. I think I would've been pretty miserable without him, so I guess it was worth it

E: Yeah the kid I was in love with really helped me through a lot of shit with my mom. For some reason whenever I was around him I forgot to be scared of shit. Or maybe he was just annoying enough to keep me distracted

E: But I think it was more than that

E: He fucking glowed

E: I should've kissed him when I had the chance. But I was probably scared he'd give me mono

R: You should look him up. See where he's at

E: No I'll leave him alone

E: In my head I thought he was the most beautiful person in the world. It'd suck to see him now and realize that he's just another regular guy

R: Yeah I get that. I feel the same. I mean when you're a kid you feel things so fucking hard, and it's nice to keep that for as long as you can. It's nice to hang on to stuff like that

E: Yeah I think I'll just keep those memories in the past

E: But I'm glad I had him though. Because if it weren't for him I wouldn't even know I was capable of feeling shit like that

E: But because I fell in love once, I know I can do it again. I wouldn't know that without him

R: Yeah it's weird. Until last week I thought I'd never been in love before, but now I fucking remember it. And now I'm just depressed that I wasted so much time avoiding it

E: I think I love you

E: One second I'm googling how to delete texts

R: Sorry I already screencapped it

E: Fuck

R: You think you love me?

E: Yeah it's a possibility 

R: Can you walk me through your thought process on that one?

E: Sorry, don't have one

E: It just seemed to fill the space right. Like a tetris block

R: I think I love you too

E: And you're not just saying that because I said it first?

R: No I think it's true

R: I mean I can't confirm it yet, but yeah, I think so. It's been in the back of my head for the last couple days actually

E: Yeah same

E: But that's not how this is supposed to work right?

E: I'm fucking terrified that I'm just psyching myself out. I mean telling someone you love them after a week has got to be a symptom of at least one mental disorder

R: Please don't try to CBT your way out of this

R: And not to ramp up the pressure, but if this doesn't work out then I have no fucking clue how I'm going to come back from this

E: Yeah me neither

E: I'm still freaked out that my brain is lying to me because I'm lonely as shit

E: I just can't stop thinking about what it felt like as a kid. And maybe that wasn't real love, but at least this feels familiar

R: Yeah, it does

R: You know, no one's ever told me that before

E: I've heard it a lot, but I don't know if anyone actually meant it. I definitely didn't mean it when I said it back. But I thought maybe I did at the time

E: Whenever I was dating someone I'd waste so much mental energy trying to figure out if I loved them. And it'd change maybe every hour. I'd making fucking pros and cons lists trying to figure it out. I was still debating whether or not I loved Myra on our fucking wedding day

E: But now it feels easy

R: Just so you're aware, I'm so fucking happy right now

R: I'm not going to think about any other shit. I'm just so happy

E: Yeah same. And I know I should've waited until next week. Of course I should've fucking waited. But I couldn't keep talking to you and pretending that it wasn't in my head all the fucking time

R: I'm glad you said it first. You're a lot braver than me

E: Maybe I've just got less to lose

R: No you definitely have a track record. You were the first to make a move, the first to start texting dirty shit, and now the first to start throwing the L train around. I'm sitting over here at 0 for 3

E: Yeah guess I've got a batting average going

R: I honestly don't know what else to say. You've effectively shut me up. Congrats

E: Yeah I feel like we hit a high point there

R: I could keep embarrassing myself, but I'm scared I'll jinx it if I keep this up

E: Yeah i was just thinking that. If your plane breaks down that one's on me

R: Don't put that shit out there

R: I'm not going to end up as a data point on one of your risky business spreadsheets

E: Fucking better not

E: Shit I'm tired

R: Of course you are it's fucking 1am

R: We should probably say goodnight now and cut our losses

E: You up for phone sex again?

R: You're not too tired?

E: Don't act like you're not going to jerk off after this anyway

R: You're a fucking menace

R: I can't wait to say it to your face

E: I deserve it

E: I think I'm nicer in person than in text so you've already built up a decent tolerance

R: You know what else I can't wait to say to your face?

E: What?

R: I love you

E: You can shut right the fuck up

R: Just so you know, I get off on people being nice to me

E: Clearly you don't

R: It's about 50-50

E: What else do you like?

R: Are we officially putting on the mood lighting now?

E: Yeah I just dimmed my phone as low as it'll go. I'm good when you are

R: Cool

R: I like being touched

E: Where?

R: Can you start with my chest?

E: Should I use my fingertips or palms?

R: Palms

R: You probably have really soft hands from all that paper pushing

E: Yeah and I'm sure your hands are covered in callouses from working all those mics

E: You want me to use my soft insurance hands to play with your nipples?

R: Can you use your mouth for that?

E: Sure why not

E: You want teeth?

R: No just your tongue is good

E: What do you sound like?

R: I'm usually pretty loud

R: I swear a lot

R: If I didn't live alone you could probably hear me through the wall

E: Fuck I want to hear you

E: I'd call you if Myra wasn't down the hall

R: Maybe when she's at work this weekend?

E: Yeah that sounds nice

E: Fuck I really want to feel you getting hard under me

E: You make me hard so fucking fast

E: Can I fuck you? Do you want that?

R: Yes please

R: And hey since this isn't real we can skip all the awkward prep work

E: Hey why don't we really fuck around and not use a condom?

R: You trying to get me in trouble here?

R: But yeah please fuck me. Anything you want

E: I want to taste your cock

R: No objections

E: I want to finger you while I suck you off

R: Please don't make me come yet

E: I won't. I'll just tease you

R: I like being teased

E: I don't

R: Aren't we just lemon and meringue then

E: I'm going to make you shut up

R: Kiss me then

E: I'll have to take my mouth off your dick

R: I want you to play with my tongue anyway

E: You like kissing?

R: Yeah I really like it

E: Your mouth is probably so fucking soft

R: You'll feel it for yourself soon

E: How do you want me to fuck you?

R: However you want

E: Should I go slow?

R: Yes please

E: Are you gonna make some nice sounds for me?

R: Yeah

E: It's so fucking good

R: Yeah? You like it?

E: Yeah

E: I want you so badly

R: Keep kissing me

E: Will you moan in my mouth?

R: Yes

R: I'm getting close

E: Do you get red before you come?

R: Yeah

E: That sounds really pretty

R: Please I'm fucking close

E: I'm gonna come inside you. You want that?

R: Yes

R: It hurts

E: You can come now

E: You finished?

R: Yeah

R: Shit I feel like I just got thoroughly fucked

E: Yeah I don't think I have the energy to clean up after that

R: I'd clean you up if I were there

E: I'd like that

R: What do you usually do afterwards?

E: Take a shower

R: Anything else? Anything I can help with?

E: I have maybe twenty words left in me before I fall asleep

E: Fall asleep with me?

R: Already in progress

E: Are you warm?

R: Not really, my AC's on

E: No I mean your body you idiot

R: Oh, yeah I run kind of hot

E: Good

**1:26AM EST**

R: You asleep?

**1:32AM EST**

R: Goodnight


	17. May 20 - Day

**May 20, 2015, 11:03AM EST**

E: So guess who woke up today feeling like absolute shit

R: I don't know give me three hints

E: He's white, has brown hair, and washes his dishes with bleach

R: Damn can you narrow it down a bit?

R: No really I'm so sorry

R: Better or worse than you were on Monday?

E: Fucking worse

E: I think. It all blurs together

E: I almost passed out after a minute in the shower if that's any indication

R: Fuck I'm sorry

R: Is it the vertigo again?

E: No I just have a fuck awful headache

E: It hurts to look at my phone

R: You should sleep it off if you can

E: Yeah I took two aspirins and they should kick in soon

E: Fuck I hate this. I had three good days and I knew the streak had to break at some point, but I didn't expect it to fucking kneecap me like this

R: I'm sure it'll pass. It's always passed before right?

E: Yeah

E: I'm just worried it won't pass before you get here

R: Hey if it doesn't no big deal. Don't even worry about that. Just get some rest and text me if you're up for it

E: Yeah I think that's all I'm good for right now

R: I'm here if you need anything

**5:09PM EST**

R: You feeling any better?

E: Nope

R: Worse?

E: Yeah

E: I spoke too soon about the vertigo. Fucking jinxed it

E: And my stomach is fucking burning. I know it's just cause I've barely eaten anything, but I'm so fucking nauseous I'll probably just throw it up

R: Jesus I'm sorry

R: You should try to get down at least a few calories if you can

R: How you doing mentally?

E: I don't think it can get much worse

E: You know when you can feel anxiety? Chemically? Like this deep chill at the back of your head and running down your spine?

R: Yeah I've been there

R: You want to talk about it or do you want a distraction?

E: I don't think you or anyone has an anecdote strong enough to drown this out

E: There's nothing else in my head

E: Every time I breathe I'm scared my heart's going to stop

E: I keep listening to my pulse and after every beat I'm scared it's going to stop

R: It won't

E: I keep getting this sharp pain over my heart. I know it's just anxiety. I've had it at least since college. But I'm so fucking scared it's real this time

R: You're not having a heart attack or anything else. I get anxiety chest pain too. You're going to be fine

R: And I'm not saying that just to bedside manner you, it's really true

R: Is it bad enough that you can't even listen to music or something?

E: I don't want to. I mean I do but I can't. It's stupid but I keeping thinking that if I die soon I don't want to spend the rest of my time just distracting myself with stupid shit

R: That's what life is about though

E: But if I die I want to at least go out thinking about stuff that matters

E: But it's hard

E: I keep trying to remember shit from when I was a kid

E: I'll remember one thing and it'll lead to something else

E: Like I'll remember what my bedroom looked like, then the hallway, then the bathroom

E: Then I'll remember watching ants crawl out of the sink

E: And mold around the faucet

E: The medicine cabinet was so full that whenever I opened it bottles would fall out

E: I thought I was healthy as a kid but all the prescriptions had my name

R: People misremember stuff like that all the time

E: No they definitely had my name. I'm not lying

E: I remember carrying them around with me

E: I had to take them four times a day. I don't even remember what they were

E: I remember swallowing pills when I was fucking six

E: I was so scared they'd get stuck in my throat

E: I remember crying because I was so scared I'd choke but my mom told me I had to take them or I'd get really sick

E: She said I'd never see my friends again. Or go outside. I'd have to go to the hospital and they'd put me on machines

R: Ok this is starting to sound like you just had a nightmare at some point and it merged with your memory. I've definitely had that

E: No I think this really fucking happened

E: I don't even know what I was taking

E: I can't remember what the bottles said

R: Maybe it was a short-term thing? Like antibiotics or something?

E: No I remember getting them from the pharmacy for years. I was too short to look over the counter when I started getting them

E: I can't even ask my mom what I was taking because she's fucking dead

R: Whatever it was you obviously haven't needed it since you were a kid. You probably just had a condition that you grew out of. Do you remember when you stopped taking it?

E: I don't know. 13 maybe?

E: But maybe whatever it was is coming back

R: They would've caught it. If they caught it back when you were a little kid in the 80s then they definitely would've caught it this time around

R: But hey if you need to go to the hospital that's alright

E: They can't do anything for me. If I go to the ER they'll just do another EKG and tell me it's anxiety and tell me to book an appointment with a specialist

E: There's really nothing I can fucking do

R: It'll pass. You've got a lot of good days left in you

R: And I'll be there in like 70 hours. I know that's still a long fucking time but it'll pass

E: Fuck I don't want this to be your first impression of me

R: I don't care if you look like shit. I look like shit everyday

R: Just try to sleep as much as you can. It'll be ok

E: Ok. I don't believe you but thanks for saying it

R: I wish I was there to tell you in person

E: If you saw me in person you probably wouldn't be saying it

R: I'm sure I've looked a lot worse, but I'm still here

E: Thanks. Just keep those expectations low


	18. May 20 - Night

**May 20, 2015, 10:04PM EST**

R: Just checking in. Don't reply if you're not up for it

E: I'm ok. I just took two klonopins

E: Well technically three, but I puked the first one up

R: Jesus

E: I'm feeling better now though

E: Everything still fucking hurts but I'm ok

R: Did you call your doctor or anything?

E: No but I have a follow up appointment on Tuesday anyway, and it's not like they're going to get me in before then unless I start flatlining

E: But really I'm ok. Sorry if I freaked you out earlier

R: Don't worry I've gotten weirder texts from weirder people

E: I've been remembering a lot more shit. And some of it's actually good

R: Tell me about the good parts

E: They're not even full memories. And I'm not sure how real they are

E: I remember swimming in this really dirty water, but the good kind. The way water's supposed to be

E: I don't think we were supposed to be swimming there. If we needed help we'd be fucked

E: Everyone's skin was so bright under the water

E: You ever go underwater and look up and see sunlight on the surface?

R: Not in a really long time

E: Me neither. I remember I was scared to open my eyes because of bacteria but my friend told me I had to and it was so fucking beautiful

E: Now I'm too scared to open my eyes in public pools. I'll probably never see anything like that again

R: Hey sometimes the pink eye is worth it

E: All of my best memories are from being a kid and playing outside

E: Sometimes I was scared to do shit but I still did it

E: If all my friends jumped off a bridge I'd do it too

E: I can't do shit like that anymore

R: No of course you can't. I can't either. But if you see a bunch of adults jumping off a bridge you should just call the cops

E: But when I was a kid I was still scared of fucking everything, but I thought it'd go away when I got older. But it didn't

E: It just keeps getting worse

E: I don't know how much worse it can get

R: I mean when you're a kid you don't really think about shit like getting hurt and sick. It's normal that it's gotten worse. But I'm sorry it hit you so young

E: All this time I thought I was fucking miserable as a kid. But I think it was actually the happiest period of my life

R: I know what you mean. I've been remembering a lot of shit too. And yeah in hindsight I think I was happier as a kid than I've ever been since but that's probably something a lot of people have to deal with. And we're probably both wearing some rose-tinted glasses anyway

E: No I think it's true

E: I was excited about everything all the time. My friend would bring me weird rocks and it'd make me so fucking happy. I can't think of anything in the last ten years that's made me as happy as those stupid fucking rocks

E: My friends did so much shit for me

E: You know I haven't had a birthday party since I was 18?

E: I think about it every year but I don't know anyone who'd want to come. And I can't think of anyone I'd want to be there

R: We'll give you a party this year. What's the official date?

E: May 28

R: Cool, we'll figure something out

E: I just want to be with you

R: We can do that too. Whatever you want

E: I keep thinking about dying in my sleep

E: I always feel like such shit in the mornings

E: I'm scared I'm going to die in my sleep and you won't know and you'll fly out here and I won't answer

E: If I don't answer you know I didn't ghost you right? I wouldn't do that

R: Don't worry I know

R: But you're not going to die in your sleep

R: Or if you really feel like you are then you need to go to the hospital

E: I know but I really don't want to. I fucking hate hospitals. I have nightmares about them all the time. Every time I go in one I'm scared I won't leave

E: But this isn't some new shit. I've been thinking about dying in my sleep every fucking night since this shit started

E: I always wanted to tell you that if I stopped answering it's because I was dead or in a coma or something, but I didn't want to freak you out

E: But now I'm so fucking scared it's really going to happen so I'm telling you now

R: Thank you for telling me

R: But really you'll be ok

E: I'm sorry for putting all this shit on you

R: You're not, don't worry

R: Do whatever you need to get through this. I'll help as much as I can when I get there

R: Do you want me to come sooner?

R: Maybe I can get there tomorrow. Would that be ok?

E: It'll be expensive as fuck rebooking this late

R: I have the money I don't care

R: Ok I just checked and all the flights to NY are booked for tomorrow, but there's one leaving at 11am on Sunday that still has a few seats left. Should I book it?

E: Please

R: Done

E: I'm sorry

R: No it's alright. I want to see you sooner anyway

E: You didn't sign up for this shit though

R: Hey we're getting the worst out of the way early

E: This isn't the worst of it

R: Maybe not but do you remember yesterday? I know it probably feels like a million years ago but remember how happy you were? It was less than 24 hours ago. This is just a fluke. Bodies are weird as shit. You'll bounce back I know it. You have to

E: Yeah I hope you're right

R: I am right

R: I don't know shit about health or medicine but I know you're going to be ok

R: By this time next week we'll be eating cheesecake and watching bad movies

R: It'll be really nice. And I'll be there in like 30 hours now. I'll come pick you up. You don't have to drive. It'll be ok

E: Okay. But can you do something really stupid for me?

R: Always

E: Please don't treat me like I'm sick. I know that sounds really fucking stupid, but my mom and Myra always treated me like I was sick and I hate that I'm proving them right

R: Of course I can do that. Or not do that. Anything you want

E: Thanks

E: My eyes really hurt

R: You should get some rest

E: I don't want to 

R: I know but I promise everything will be the same when you wake up. Or better hopefully

E: Yeah I hope so

E: Goodnight

R: Goodnight

R: And for the record, I still think I love you. That's not going to change over one bad day

E: Thank you


	19. May 21 - Day

**May 21, 2015, 10:47AM EST**

R: You still around?

E: Yeah

R: See you made it to the other side! That wasn't so bad, right?

E: I can't move my head

R: Shit what's wrong? Headache? Nausea?

E: Yeah

E: I can't really type right now

E: Or talk

R: Ok that's alright

R: Just let me know if you need anything

R: But hey, I know this is asking a lot, but can you text me maybe every two hours or so? Nothing big just a letter or number or something

R: You just freaked me out a bit yesterday and I want to make sure you're still ok

R: And please please promise me you'll go to the hospital if things get any worse

E: I will

E: Both those things

R: Thank you

R: Get some rest

**1:00PM EST**

E: You want a letter or number?

R: How about a letter

E: D

R: Good choice

**3:00PM EST**

E: E

R: That's you :)

**5:00PM EST**

E: R

R: And me

**7:00PM EST**

E: R

R: I heard you the first time


	20. May 21 - Night

**May 20, 2015, 9:00PM EST**

E: Why can't I remember being a kid?

E: It didn't seem weird before

E: Why is it coming back now?

R: I mean it was the same for me so it must be universal to some extent

E: But why didn't anyone ever fucking ask me about it?

E: My therapists, my girlfriends, Myra

E: They never fucking asked about any of it

R: Yeah I can't think of anyone who's asked me about it either

R: Maybe people are just self-absorbed like that

R: Ok no I can't keep this up. It's weird as shit and I have no fucking clue why this is happening

R: It doesn't make any fucking sense and it's freaky as shit

E: I think my mom might've done some really messed up stuff to me. I think maybe I blocked it out

E: But what's bad enough to make me forget my whole fucking childhood?

R: I don't know

R: I don't think my parents ever did shit like that to me

R: But yeah I think I've got some traumatic shit buried somewhere

R: I keep having nightmares about it. It's like I'll remember everything but forget it the second I wake up and it's driving me fucking crazy

E: I'm so scared I'll die before I figure it out

E: I'm scared of everything

E: I'm scared I'll break my neck if I try going down the stairs

E: I'm by the window because I'm scared there's gas in the room

E: I'm scared there's someone in the hall

R: It'll be ok

R: Just keep talking as long as you can

E: You're real right?

E: Every time I check my phone I'm scared you'll be gone

E: I memorized your number but I'm scared I'll call you and you'll be gone

R: I'll be here. You can call me right now

E: Myra will hear me

R: Maybe you should leave tonight then. Just find the closest hotel and stay there for the night

E: What part of I'm too scared to walk down the stairs don't you understand?

R: It's really that bad?

E: I had two panic attacks today. And there'll probably be more

R: Shit I'm sorry

R: Has anything like this happened before?

E: Just once. A couple years ago I ran out of zoloft for three days and it really fucked me up. But I've been taking everything like I'm supposed to

E: But swallowing fucking hurts

E: I can't stop thinking about being a kid and I keep coughing them back up

E: But I'm getting them down and doing everything I'm supposed to and it's not fucking working

R: You should call your doctor tomorrow and see if he can help. Or your therapist. Someone

E: I don't think it's my meds. I've been on the same fucking dose for seven years

R: But you've been getting prescribed a lot of new shit. Maybe they're reacting badly with each other

E: All I'm taking are some vitamins and midodrine for my blood pressure. Sure midodrine has your regular one in a million godawful side effects but nothing like this. Believe me I checked. And checked again and again and again

R: Then maybe you're the one in a billion exception

R: You still really need to call your doctor tomorrow. Please

E: He doesn't fucking know what to do. None of the shit he gave me is working

R: I'm sorry. I wish I had answers. I really wish I did

R: I'm so sorry I don't have any

R: On Monday when you listed your symptoms I punched them into webmd and it just told me you were anorexic

E: I fucking wish I was anorexic

E: All I want is a fucking diagnosis

E: We have names for so many stupid conditions. Shit that doesn't even bother people. But they can't give me a name for this shit that's literally killing me?

R: Let's talk about something else

R: I know it's hard but let's try

E: When I was a kid being sick was my whole fucking personality. I don't think I ever outgrew that. Even if the asthma went away

E: Before this I was just a sick person living in a healthy person's body and now I'm not even that

E: Now I'm just sick and I'm going to die sick and I'll never be anything else

R: That's not true

R: You're one of the funniest people I've ever met. You're so fucking smart. You've lived through some really awful shit but you're the best thing in my life right now and you're going to get better

E: Stop fucking saying that!

E: You're lying and you need to fucking stop

R: No offense but I know people who've survived a lot worse. I know it probably feels like you're getting close to the coda, but as long as you're still breathing I'm not worried

E: But even if I get through this what do I have left?

E: I'm too scared to go outside

E: I'm scared of eating

E: I'm scared you're going to look at me and realize I'm not worth it and leave me here and then I'll have fucking nothing

R: I'm not going to do that though

R: You were going outside and doing just fine two days ago

R: Bullshit like this comes in waves

R: Trust me everyone I know has a cocktail of mental illnesses. I do too. You're dealing with some really hard shit but it'll pass

R: Seriously let's talk about something else

R: Can I tell you about the dream I just had? You've been hogging the airtime a bit

R: I was taking a nap right before you texted me

R: Most of it's gone but it was kind of cool

E: Sure

R: Ok so I was a kid and I was floating underwater. I don't know how deep it was but I know I couldn't see the surface or anything below me

R: But there was still light coming from somewhere

R: And I knew I couldn't breathe but it didn't hurt and drowning didn't even register. There wasn't any air but bubbles were still coming out of my mouth

R: Then I heard this noise. I can't describe it. It's gone now. But it felt like I was having deja vu for every memory at once

R: Then this giant turtle swam past me

R: You ever watch those videos of blue whales next to divers and they look like fucking skyscrapers? This turtle was so much bigger. Bigger than anything. I felt like I was smaller than a cell in its body

R: And it slowly swam past me and I watched it go on and on like when you're little and watching train cars go by and they never seem to end

R: And it kept going and I just kept floating and watching

R: Then I realized it was bleeding and all the water around me was turning red and getting warmer and I could taste the iron

R: Then it said something. It didn't actually speak but I heard it in my head

R: I can't remember it. It was only three words but I can't remember

R: Then you texted me and I woke up

R: That distract you for a minute?

E: Yeah I just bought the audiobook version

R: Thanks but I should tell you now that I really don't have an audiobook voice

R: Actually I'm not bad at impressions so maybe I should give it a shot

E: What impression would you do for the turtle?

R: A washed up comedian. I'm really good at that one

E: You ever do impressions in bed?

R: If you're into that I can start

E: Eh if you don't have an audiobook voice then you probably don't have a dirty talk voice either

R: No I really don't. I've heard my voice played back enough times to know that no one wants to listen to me beg for their dick

E: I wouldn't mind

R: You haven't heard me yet

R: But you will soon

R: My flight leaves at 11 and it's about a 6 hour flight. What's your address? I need to figure out how long it'll take to drive up

E: 502 Truman ave Hawthorne NY

R: Ok I'm flying into LaGuardia and it's only a 30 minute drive up so I should be there by 6

R: Wait fuck I forgot to factor in the time difference! Ok more like 9

R: But you can make it that long. You've survived every day of the last 39 years so statistically speaking you'll definitely make it one more right?

E: Yeah I think

E: I wish you were here now

R: Me too

E: I haven't touched anyone in a really long time

E: Last week a cashier brushed my hand while handing back my card and I almost blacked out

R: Yeah I'm definitely with you there

R: I haven't really left my house since that dinner on Monday

R: I've just been ordering take out. I barely use my yard

R: I've just been waiting to see you

E: Don't you have other friends?

R: Not really

R: I'm not good at keeping people I like around for long

R: How'd I make it to 39 without one fucking friend?

R: I don't think I've had any real friends since I was a kid

**11:33PM EST**

E: Sorry I just threw up again

R: Shit are you ok?!

E: No

R: No of course not stupid question

R: Is it over at least?

E: I think so

R: Yeah I get fuck awful anxiety nausea and I drink too much so I know how bad that shit is

E: I'm scared I'm not keeping my pills down

E: But I don't want to take more

R: No don't take any more. Definitely don't do that

E: Sorry

R: About what?

E: I don't know

E: Being piss poor company

R: Hey shut up

R: Do you want to keep talking or do you want to be alone?

E: I want to talk

E: I can't really use my head though

R: That's ok I can do most of the talking if you want

E: Ok

R: Yeah I can distract you. I'm good at that shit

R: A fan once told me he binged all my specials on his phone on the bathroom floor after eating a bad hotdog. Best compliment to date

E: Yeah just talk about anything

R: Alright

R: And if you don't respond after a while I'll just assume you're asleep

E: No!

E: If I don't reply after a while call me and wake me up

R: You'll have to sleep at some point

E: I want to wait til you get here

R: That's at least 22 hours. You can't do that

E: Then just til it's light out

E: I don't want to sleep when it's dark

R: Where are you right now?

E: Bathtub

R: Any water in it?

E: My feet are really cold. I'm running hot water on them

R: Ok just make sure it's not too hot

E: It's not

R: Are you comfortable?

E: No

R: No of course you're not. I keep asking stupid questions

R: Just don't get your phone wet

E: It's not going to electrocute me

R: Yeah but if you drop it then I won't get to talk to you anymore

R: But right, I'm supposed to be keeping you entertained

R: Yeah that's what I do

R: I have lots of stories, but most of them involve shitty people

R: I don't have many nice ones

R: But I could tell you about something from when I was a kid

R: You want to hear about the first time I figured out I was into boys? I mean really figured it out?

E: Yeah

R: Ok I haven't told anyone this. I mean I just remembered it last night when I was watching my bowl in the microwave so of course I haven't told anyone

R: I think it was 7th grade. It was a weekend right before summer break

R: And there was this shallow creek that ran outside my town but it got deep in a few places. And there was one area that had lots of currents and deep spots and the rocks were so smooth you could just glide down them

R: You ever lie on a warm rock by a river as a kid and you hear the bugs and the birds and the water and you don't know it but that's as good as things are ever going to get?

E: Yeah

R: It was that

R: But it was Maine so the water was still ass cold in May, but I went in anyway

R: And my friend was sitting on the shore. It was the kid I liked. He's also the little shit who nearly took my eye out

R: I was in the middle of the river and I went under but forgot I still had my glasses on and the current pulled them off my face

R: I fucking screamed underwater when they slid off

R: By the time I came back up they were long gone

R: And I have really shit vision. I was running into doors by three. Back then I had those coke bottle glasses that gave you cartoon eyes, so I was shit out of luck

R: I got back to shore just fine but we were about a mile out in the woods and had to go over some rough terrain to get back

R: I remember putting my clothes back on and my shirt didn't have a tag so I couldn't figure out which side was the front and I kept turning it back and forth til my friend got fed up and put it right for me

R: First I had my hands on his shoulders but I was taller so I kept stepping on his heels

R: Finally he just grabbed my hand and started pulling me out like my mom dragging me out of the cereal aisle

R: I don't think I'd ever held his hand before. Not for that long anyway

R: You still there?

E: Yeah

R: Water still running?

E: No it got cold

R: You should go back to bed if you can

E: Yeah I'm back now

R: Good

R: Anyway, as we're walking I kept getting these pulses of goosebumps up my arm

R: Whenever he squeezed a bit harder or moved his thumb I felt it in my chest

R: I kept staring at the back of his head. The shell of his ear. And was so frustrated that it was all so blurry

R: It was weird cause I was right at that age where you start to get your adult vision

R: Like when you stop seeing the world through this magical nonsense filter and instead just see things for what they are

R: You remember being little and trapdoors were the coolest thing in the world and you looked for them everywhere? I was around the age where I stopped looking for trapdoors

R: But walking around without my glasses brought some of that back

R: Like I kept looking up and thought I saw treehouses. Or a dark patch was a tunnel. Or a weird rock had writing on it

R: I feel like that's the last time I saw the world the way a kid sees it

R: I think that's when I started to put things together

R: You know how when you're little and eating your weight in Halloween candy and you don't think about fucking up your blood sugar? You're just thinking about how good it tastes. You don't really process how a good thing could lead to a bad thing?

R: When I was around boys it always felt good, but it took a while before I started seeing the trajectory. That liking something good could lead to something bad

R: I remember my hand was sweating so fucking hard. We had to switch hands eventually because it got so gross

R: But his hand was sweating too

R: And when we got closer to the road I hated it cause I wanted to keep holding his hand so fucking bad

R: But as soon as we got out of the trees we let go. I didn't pull away or anything. We just both let go at the same time

R: I mean without any ditches or logs I could navigate the sidewalk just fine. But I knew that even if I couldn't we'd have to let go anyway

R: So yeah, I guess that was it for me

R: And I guess that's as far as I ever got

R: You still awake?

R: Last chance to speak up if you are

R: I know you told me to call and wake you up, but I think I should let you sleep. You might be mad at me in the morning, but you'll wake up just fine and you'll be glad you didn't stay up all night freaking out

R: I'll see you soon ok? And I'll talk to you in the morning. I'll talk to you til I have to get on the plane

R: I really need some sleep too. I have to get out of here by 9. That's real fucking early for me

R: It's stupid but I just punched your address into google maps so I could see where you live. I'm looking at the satellite picture now. I can see your car in the driveway. I know it's creepy, but it makes me feel better seeing where you are. That you're sleeping in one of those windows. That you're a real person with curtains and a yard and flowerpots

R: I want to know you so bad. Really know you. I don't yet, but I will

R: I'll see you really soon

R: Goodnight

R: By the way what's the balloon on your mailbox for?


	21. May 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Major warnings for this chapter! Suicide, slurs, verbal abuse, the worst of the worst. This is definitely as bad as it gets though**

**May 20, 2015, 9:49AM EST**

E: You didn't wake me up

R: I'm sorry. I was planning to, but you sounded so exhausted. I just thought it'd be better in the long run

R: But hey you're up now! That wasn't so bad right?

**10:03AM**

R: How're you feeling?

**10:08AM**

R: You there?

**10:13AM**

E: Maybe you shouldn't come

R: What?! Dude I'm getting on the plane in less than four hours. I'm not rebooking again. They'll put me in the cargo hold

R: Are you angry that I didn't wake you up? I'm so sorry. I'll make it up to you. Anything you want, I'm sorry

E: No I'm not mad. I really wasn't all there was I

R: So what's going on then? Did something happen with Myra?

E: No. She just left for work

R: She left you alone?!

E: Why wouldn't she?

R: Do you want to be alone?

E: No

R: Wow then I have some amazing news for you! I'll be there in 11 hours and we can do anything you want

R: Are you packed yet? You have everything you need?

R: Have you been looking at apartments? I was googling some the other day. And hey there's a writer I work with sometimes who has an apartment in Brooklyn that he's looking to sublet for a couple months. I can hook you up and you won't have to worry about finding a place this week

R: He posted some pics on twitter. I can send them over if you want

E: That's alright

R: Ok but we'll find you something. We'll find you something nice

R: Seriously what's going on?

R: Please tell me you're ok

E: Yeah I'm ok

E: I just don't think you should come

R: Why not?

R: Dude please I'm flying across the country to come see you

R: I want to see you so fucking badly

R: Don't you want to see me?

E: Yeah, but that'll be it won't it?

E: You've already made up your mind haven't you

R: About what?

E: You're not going to stay with me after this and you fucking know it

R: I don't know jackshit about anything

R: But no matter what I'm not just gonna leave you out to dry

E: But you won't want me after this

R: Of course I want you

E: You're only fucking saying that because I'm freaking you out

R: No I'm not. I mean yes I am freaking the fuck out but please I want you more than I've ever wanted anyone

R: You believe me right? Just read back through my texts

E: I already did. I read the whole thing over and over again but it's not fucking true

E: I'm not fucking like that in real life

R: No of course you're not, nobody is. I'm not either

R: Dude you were completely fine three days ago. You'll get through this, I promise

E: I wasn't fine. Sorry if I lied well enough to make you think I was

R: Well I'm not fine either but that's just how it is

R: Hey, I think maybe you should go to the hospital

E: Yeah I figured you'd say that

E: I just had a dream about that you know

E: I was in the hospital with this giant fucking hole in my chest and I couldn't feel it but it was rotting and pus kept pumping out and bugs were crawling inside me

E: I waited for years and the hole kept getting bigger and I kept screaming for help but the whole fucking building was empty

E: It was dark outside the whole time but years were going by and I felt every fucking day and it went on for decades and I just wouldn't die

R: I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. That's awful and I'm sorry for not waking you up and making you go through that

E: How could you have fucking known?

E: But you know what? I'm not even scared of dying

E: I'm just scared of getting sick

E: Sometimes I'll hold my breath because I'm so scared that if I keep breathing my lungs will just stop

R: Please just try to think about something else

R: Just talk to me about whatever shit comes into your head

E: My head hurts. It hurts so fucking bad

R: Ok that's ok just try to relax

E: My feet are numb. They're fucking numb

R: They can fix that at the hospital

E: I don't think they can

E: I don't want to know what's wrong with me anymore

E: I'm so scared of finding out what's wrong with me then just waiting to die

E: But that's what I'm doing right now. That's what I've always been doing. It doesn't matter if I get diagnosed with a cold or stage 4 cancer because it won't change anything

E: I'm going to die and nothing will happen and it won't matter and I'm so fucking scared of waiting

E: I don't believe in anything after. I think I'm just going to disappear

E: I don't want that. But I can't fucking stand waiting for it. Knowing it's going to happen and there's nothing I can do to stop it

E: I'm going to be scared forever

E: I thought maybe one day I wouldn't be, but I will

R: Dude please I'm begging you to go to the fucking hospital

R: If you can't drive then call an ambulance 

R: I'll come be with you. Just tell me what hospital you're at and I'll come be with you

E: That's really nice

E: But I think I'll stay here

E: I'm not going to have a funeral

E: I'm going to be cremated

E: You don't even have to know what I look like

E: I don't want you to see my body

E: I don't want you to remember me that way

E: But you'll know how much you meant to me

E: You'll have this

E: Will you call me? I want to hear you

E: I can't think of anything else

E: I don't need to tell anyone else

E: I keep thinking about it

E: I want to hear you

E: Will you just talk to me?

E: I want to hear your voice

E: I don't want to think about anything else

E: Just talk to me about something stupid

E: Can you tell me you love me?

E: I don't care if it isn't true

E: It doesn't matter

E: Just tell me you love me and that it'll be ok and I'm going to feel better

E: Are you there?

E: Please answer

E: Please I'm so fucking scared

E: Please just call me and tell me you love me

R: I'm here

R: I'm here and I love you and everything will be ok

R: You know I still haven't decided what to get you for your birthday

R: I know I blew it. I had all week to figure it out

R: But I'll think of something

R: I want to get you something nice

R: Is there anything you want? Anything at all, I'll get it for you

E: Please just tell me you love me

R: I love you

E: I want to hear your voice

R: You will when I get there

R: But I'm not going to call you right now

E: Why not?

R: Because I'm scared that's what you're waiting for

E: Fuck you

**11:14AM**

E: The police and an ambulance just showed up at my fucking house!

R: I'm sorry I'm so sorry

R: I was so fucking scared

R: I called 911 and gave them your address

R: But you're ok though right?

R: I was so scared you took something and needed help

E: I told them to fuck off and you should too

R: Ok I will but please tell me you're ok

E: Just fucking stop

E: Don't you fucking come here and don't fucking talk to me

E: If you come here I'll kill you

E: Why'd you ruin it?

E: Why would you do that?

E: No you should come here so I can shove your glasses through your goddamn eyes

E: I want to break the glass and carve up your face and slit your throat so you'll just stop fucking talking

E: Just stop talking

E: Why don't you shove a knife down your throat and slice off your fingers so you can't type and no one will have to listen to your bullshit anymore

E: No one wants to hear you

E: No one gives a shit

E: You're just some stupid faggot lazy trash wasting time on a piece of shit like me but you're such a pathetic fuck that I'm probably the only thing keeping you from blowing your brains out aren't I

E: Well maybe you should

E: Who will fucking notice?

E: Use all that goddamn money and buy the strongest shit you can and lock your door and just fucking shut up

E: Are you dead yet? I hope you're dead

E: I hope you rot for weeks before anyone thinks to look

E: What else are you gonna do? Fuck more married men?

E: Drink alone in cum stain clothes and write your stupid jokes?

E: You must have some shit lying around

E: Take all of it

E: Pump your veins full then go to fucking sleep you miserable cocksucker go to hell I don't care how you get there but go to fucking hell and if you text me again I'll bleed myself dry you disgusting fucking faggot


	22. May 23

**May 23, 2015, 10:42AM EST**

E: There's someone in my house

E: I'm hiding in the closet

R: Call the police

R: Right now

E: I'm scared he'll hear me

R: I'll call for you

E: Thank you

**10:50AM**

R: The dispatcher said they'll be there in 5-7 minutes

R: I have 911 on speakerphone

E: Thank you

E: I'm so sorry

E: I didn't mean any of it. I'm so fucking sorry

R: No it's ok I'm not mad

R: I knew there was something wrong

R: It's not important

E: Where are you?

R: I'm still in LA

E: I'm sorry

R: No it's ok don't worry about me

R: Can you hear him?

E: Not anymore

R: Where'd you see him?

E: End of the hall

R: Maybe it was just a burglar who thought the place was empty and ran when he saw you

E: No

E: It wasn't a person

E: It was a clown

E: It had blood around its mouth

E: Shark teeth

E: It smiled

R: 3 more minutes

R: You'll be ok

E: I'm going crazy

E: Really fucking crazy

R: No you're not

R: Listen I think there's something wrong with your meds

R: But stay where you are

R: Don't move

R: Don't be scared

E: I can't breathe

R: Because you're scared

E: It'll hear me if I breathe

R: No it won't

R: Keep breathing

R: Definitely don't stop doing that

E: I'm sorry

E: I fucked up everything

R: It's alright

R: Everything's ok

R: Is your front door locked?

E: No

R: Good the police are there

R: I told them you're upstairs in the closet

R: And that you're really scared

R: You'll be ok

**2:11PM EST**

E: Hey

R: Hey!

R: Are you ok? The dispatcher said they found you alright

E: Yeah I'm good

E: They searched my house and didn't find anything. Which isn't surprising considering I hallucinated the whole fucking thing

E: I mean, a fucking cannibal clown?

E: What makes it even more stupid is I had a nightmare about the same fucker just last night. How the fuck could I think it was real?

R: Hey you handled it really well all things considered

R: And for what it's worth I have nightmares about clowns all the time. It's gotta be up there in the top three. Right behind running through mud and losing all your teeth

R: But where are you now?

E: Hospital

R: Are you hurt?

E: No, but between this and what happened yesterday they think I should stay here for a while

R: How long?

E: If it's just an issue with my meds then hopefully just a few days. If it's something else then I don't know

E: I'm so fucking scared I have schizophrenia

R: Do you have a family history?

E: No but my dad and his parents died so young that who fucking knows

R: Were you having symptoms before this? Doesn't schizophrenia start slow and gradually get worse?

E: I've never had anything like this, but there are like 20,000 mild symptoms and I have at least half of them

R: No offense but you seem kind of old to suddenly develop a serious disorder like that

E: It'd be late onset but not impossible

R: Have you been googling this?

E: What else am I supposed to do?

R: I don't know. You're in a hospital. There's gotta be someone with a medical degree around there somewhere

E: Yeah I just did the intake interview and they'll do some screenings later. Right now they're just waiting for someone to check out so they can get the room ready

E: I was supposed to be at the hotel with you right now

E: I'm so fucking sorry

E: I can't even read back all the shit I said it makes me so fucking sick

E: I mean yeah I can get real fucking angry and I've said some awful shit in my life, but I swear I've never said anything like that to anyone before

R: It's ok I believe you

R: I don't want you to feel guilty about anything right now. And I knew there was something wrong. I knew you didn't mean it

E: But still, if you'd said half that shit to me it would've fucking broke me

R: Yeah I sort of missed my flight yesterday because I got drunk in the bathtub

E: You were still planning on coming?

R: I don't know. I only had a 15 minute window to decide, but I think my body made the decision for me

E: I'm sorry

E: I'll pay you back for the flight. And the hotel

R: No it's ok. I managed to cancel the hotel and I can use the air miles anytime

R: I can still come out and see you

E: No let's wait on that. I don't want the first time you meet me to be in the fucking psych ward

R: Can you bring your phone with you?

E: I can't even bring my shoelaces

E: They have communal phones, but they really only want us using those for family. But if I don't get out of here in a few days I'll try to call and give you an update

R: Thanks, I'd like that

R: You have my number memorized?

E: What do you think?

E: By the way, thanks for yesterday. For ratting me out

E: I was seriously maybe a minute from clearing out my medicine cabinet when the doorbell rang

E: Of course I've thought about doing shit like that before. Who hasn't? But I think this time I really would've

R: I'm just glad you're safe now

R: And you sound a lot better

E: Yeah they gave me some shit to calm me down. And my adrenaline is so fucking drained I could probably take a nap in a bear pit

R: Good try to keep it that way

R: I was so fucking scared yesterday

R: I should've texted again to make sure you were ok

R: But I was so terrified I wouldn't get an answer

E: I wanted to text you too. Immediately after. Like a fucking nanosecond after I pressed send. But I was sure you'd tell me to fuck off. But I knew I couldn't die until I apologized. So I guess being a piece of shit kept me alive long enough to get me here

E: You didn't actually think about doing anything to yourself right? I was so fucking scared you would

R: No. I mean yeah I thought about it, but I knew you didn't mean it. I knew it had to be a fluke

R: You think you're past the worst of it now?

E: I guess that's for the New York State psychiatric association to decide

E: They're almost ready for me

R: Will Myra have your phone?

E: No they're keeping it in a locker for me

R: Ok good. I might get lonely and text you some stuff that you can read when you get back to it

R: Wait shit where's Myra?!

E: She just went home. She's freaking out. I mean of course she is

E: But honestly I'm fucking pissed at her. She ignored me in my room for three fucking days but then tried convincing the doctors that she could take care of me at home. Bed capacity is so limited I probably could've done out-patient if I wanted to, but I decided to stay

R: I'm proud of you

R: Really

E: Thanks

E: For everything

E: I have to go now. Talk to you soon?

R: Yeah. Anytime


	23. May 24

**May 24, 2015, 11:47AM EST**

R: Good morning! It's my first day without any vitamin E and I gotta tell ya, I don't think getting a solid dose of vitamin D is gonna fix it

R: I'm thinking about you

R: I wish I'd asked what hospital you're at so I could write you a letter or something, but hopefully you'll be out of there before it'd even arrive

R: I guess this counts as a letter though

R: Is this what being an actual penpal is like?

R: You just talk to yourself and hope they get back to you eventually?

R: Did they ever make you do the penpal thing in school?

R: I remember in like 4th grade we had to write letters to the kids the next town over, but turns out it's hard writing letters to someone when you don't know anything about them

R: I can't remember what I said

R: Can you imagine if we were actual penpals? It'd take us 10 fucking years to get through everything we've said

R: Which is weird since if we were talking in person we probably could've covered everything in a day or two

**12:54PM EST**

R: I hope you're doing ok. Better than ok

R: I miss you. Maybe a codependent amount

R: Yours truly, R

**1:40AM EST**

R: Wow shit I really don't have any other friends do I

R: I thought I did. I mean my contact list is longer than a CVS receipt the day after valentine's when I stock up on half-off chocolate

R: But I can't think of anyone else

R: You know I had alarms set on my phone for your lunch and coffee breaks

R: My sleep schedule's going to be fucked now that I don't have to wake up at 9 to entertain you

R: I was falling asleep by midnight too. Fuck

R: Maybe I should text a random number and see if they'll keep me company

R: I still can't believe we found each other like this

R: I mean, we can really rub it in the faces of all the other couples at the country club

R: I could turn it into a screenplay. Branch out, steal all your jokes, win an Oscar. Actually it'd be better as a two-man broadway show. The material's all here. Don't even have to edit anything. It'll be long. But hey, angels in America is 8 hours and it won everything short of the Trader Joe's raffle

**2:46AM EST**

R: I keep wanting to tell people about you. On Saturday I was on the phone with my manager and I kept wanting to mention you, but I wasn't even sure what to call you

**3:17AM EST**

R: You'll text me as soon as you get out right?

R: Sorry I know it's selfish to complain about how fucking lonely I am while you're probably dealing with the worst shit of your life, but it feels like you're gone. I know you're not. I know I'm just sitting in a locker and you're probably down the hall

R: I wish I'd gotten on the plane

R: I want to see your face soon

R: I don't care what it looks like. I just need something to jerk off to. And maybe on

R: God I feel like I'm doing standup without an audience. Just this weird echo chamber. I wish you were in the audience telling me to get bent or something

R: Fuck I really don't want you to watch my shit

R: It'd suck if you already have

R: But Netflix promotes my shit so much I wouldn't be surprised

**4:02AM EST**

R: I hope you're alright. I hope it's nothing. Or next to nothing

R: I'd say I was praying for you, but since this is LA I'm just going to stick with sending you some good secular energy

R: I'll see you soon

R: Don't let everyone fall in love with you at once

R: -R


	24. May 25

**May 25, 2015, 3:07PM EST**

R: I guess the one upside is this gives me more time to figure out what to get you for your birthday

R: Clock's really ticking

R: I mean I know a lot about you, but not enough to pick up something from target

R: I mean I don't know what shows you watch or music you listen to. How you dress, what food you like

R: We really skipped a couple steps didn't we? I found out you were a top before I learned your favorite color

R: I don't mind though. I keep reminding myself it hasn't been that long

R: I keep reading through your old texts and trying to memorize everything like it's a fucking calc test

R: Like I'm scared we'll be talking and you'll bring up an anecdote I read before but can't remember

R: God it's gonna be real fucking awkward when you read all this

R: But I figured even if you skim it, at least you'll know I was thinking about you

R: All the time

R: Like a disconcerting amount

**7:16PM EST**

R: I had another dream about that turtle last night. That motherfucker

R: But this time it was just the size of a regular river turtle. The small ones you find by the stream as a kid

R: I was sitting by the stream in my hometown with my friend and had it in my palms

R: It wasn't bleeding this time, but we could tell it was dying

R: It honestly didn't even feel like a dream. Like hands didn't start coming out of the ground or some shit. I think it might've just been a regular boring ass memory

R: We were just sitting there and watching it die and knew we couldn't do anything about it

R: It was still saying the same thing though. Whatever it said to me in the other dream

R: It's just three words but I can't fucking remember

R: You're the guy with the stats MS. How many three-word combinations can you make in English?

R: If you want you can quit your job and I'll hire you to figure it out for me

R: This fucking turtle. It was pretty cute though

R: Maybe I should go down to petco and get one. I haven't had a pet since my roommate's cat in New York

R: God I keep thinking about that friend I had

R: I'm really thinking about getting in touch with him. Just sending him a Facebook message or something. He had an uncommon enough last name that I could probably find him

R: Fuck I keep getting spam calls and hoping it's you

R: Maybe I should answer them though

R: Maybe I'll get lucky again

**10:14PM EST**

R: Fuck I need to figure out some shit to do

R: My manager's worried. I mean that's nothing new, but he just texted to ask if I want to grab lunch tomorrow and he doesn't even have any shit for me to sign

R: He thinks I'm drinking. Among other things

R: I haven't been, but I look like it

R: I want to start drinking less. I got really fucked up the other day. I can't afford many more days like that

R: But hey you said you can't drink on your meds anyway, so maybe that's just the excuse I need to go dry for a while

**1:17AM EST**

R: Sorry to get real fucking dark, but I'm so scared you're dead. Not from hurting yourself, but your other medical shit

R: I know I keep saying that you'll be fine and bodies are made of titanium and no one under 70 has ever died of anything ever but I know that's all bullshit

R: I know you've got dibs on the hypochondria, but I've been reading about your symptoms so much that whenever I type a W into google it automatically brings up webmd

R: But I didn't want you to know I was worried because I knew there was literally nothing I could do except tell you that you'll be ok

R: I hope you can like your body one day. I hope it'll let you

R: I hope being in the hospital will give them time to figure out what's going on

R: I hope you feel safe

R: I know you said you hate hospitals, but I hope you're doing ok

R: I hope you're not lonely

**5:32AM EST**

R: I'm so scared you're going to die and I'll never know

R: And I'll just be waiting and waiting

R: I hope a doctor or someone can hack into your phone and let me know

R: I just had a nightmare where I was holding your body

R: Fuck, you don't need to hear this shit

R: I couldn't see your face cause it was on my shoulder but I know it was you. You weren't breathing and everything was fucking falling apart

R: We were underground and a bunch of rocks were falling but I knew you wanted to be cremated so I couldn't fucking leave your body down there

R: I know everybody gets nightmares like that but I've never had them about anyone before

R: God you don't need this. I'm sorry


	25. May 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I made a mistake where I accidentally posted the second to last chapter instead of saving it as a draft so very sorry if you read it and it was confusing! and sorry for the spoilers

**May 26, 2015, 12:26PM EST**

R: Jesus Christ this fucking turtle man!

R: The fucker won't leave me alone!

R: You wanna hear this shit? Ok so I'm floating in outer space. Fine whatever

R: I'm a kid again of course and I see this huge motherfucker floating by me and dragging this fucking chain of planets tied to its tail. And I know it's supposed to be metaphorical or some shit but really it just looks like a string of anal beads. It starts with mercury and just goes on and on for fucking ever I assume

R: But then, you ready for this? In the distance I see something eating the planets. Like full Pac-Man just ploughing through them. You wanna know what it was? It was your goddamn clown!

R: Bloody mouth, shark teeth, you really rubbed off on me and not in the sexy way

R: And it's getting closer and crunching them down and laughing between bites and it's getting closer and closer and Jesus it's fucking eyes

R: And I can't fucking take it and I'm so scared but gravity's shot to shit so I can't move and the turtle's already in rough shape and I know it's not getting out of this in one piece

R: I watched the clown eat earth, venus, mercury, then I shut my eyes and woke up

**7:36PM EST**

R: Ok so I just bought a turtle

R: Yeah serious impulse purchase but hey, I'm on day three of my one-man shit show and I need the company

R: It's just a little painted turtle like the ones we had up in Maine

R: Slipper is the name she came with. Don't know if I'll change it or not

R: I just set up her tank and now she's swimming around

R: It's pretty fun to watch her actually

R: I like putting my finger on the glass and watching her try to bite it

R: She seems to be settling in ok. Not that I have any frame of reference

R: Got any name suggestions? They think she's about 5 and these little guys live for 25-30 years so you'll definitely be home free by then

R: Damn I'm gonna be stuck with her for 20-25 years. She might outlive me. Shit I'll have to put her in my will

**May 25, 2015, 1:13AM EST**

R: I'm pretty sure I'll have more fucked up dreams tonight. That seems to be a running theme

R: I'm sleeping on the couch so I can watch Slipper's tank. She's still swimming around. I hope she's not too freaked out. It was a big day for her. I mean, she just went from one tank to another but still, I hope she'll like it here

R: You know the first time you texted me I got this weird shudder. You know when you're out in public and you see someone you're really really attracted to? They might not even be your type, they're just in a slightly different focal ratio from everyone else

R: I felt that when you texted me. I know that's fucking stupid. You could've been some old lady down in Florida confused why she was getting calls about her social security being cancelled

R: What are the fucking odds? Of any of this? You're the stats guy, you can figure it out right?

R: You've made me feel so many things that I forgot a long time ago, good and bad

R: For example, I don't think I've been this scared since I was a kid

R: But it's alright. Slipper will help me out. She's got a good set of claws. Are they technically claws? Or just really high-maintenance nails?

R: I really like the patterns on her shell

R: I like her a lot


	26. May 27

**May 27, 2015, 10:55AM EST**

R: Make it small! Those are the fucking words!

R: Jesus Christ all that shit for this! I was expecting some profound burning man shit

R: What the fuck am I supposed to make small?

R: My venue size? My laundry load? My tits?

R: God well that's a disappointment and a half

R: There goes my multi-million cult franchise

R: Make it small. Jesus fuck

**9:13PM EST**

E: I just got out

E: But I can't really talk right now

R: You're out already? Shit that's great!

R: So what's the status?

**9:22PM EST**

R: You there?

**10:20PM EST**

E: Sorry Myra's watching me like a fucking hawk. She's in the bathroom now but I know she's planning to sleep in the same room as me tonight

R: Is she worried you'll try something?

E: No I don't think it's that

R: You're being real cryptic here

**11:25PM EST**

E: I promise I'll text you tomorrow and explain

R: Ok

R: I'll be here

R: I'm glad you're out

R: And sorry for all the weird shit I said

E: I haven't read it all yet. I'm excited. Congrats on Slipper though

R: She says hi


	27. May 28 - Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I accidentally posted this chapter last night but shhhhhhh

**May 28, 2015, 10:08AM EST**

E: Hey are you awake?

R: I am now

R: So yeah, what the fuck dude what's going on?

E: Myra said she had to go pick something up at work so I got in my car and drove a town over. I parked it at a Chinese restaurant and now I'm sitting in the lobby of a movie theater a mile away

R: Ok that sounds like a fun field trip but why?

E: My car has tracking software. The kind where if it's stolen you can log in online and see where it is. Myra's definitely going to check

R: Ok but why'd you get out of dodge in the first place? What'd Myra do?

E: You're not going to believe me

R: Try me

E: You like true crime?

R: Love it

E: Ok good because I'm pretty sure she's poisoning me

R: Wow that took a turn. I feel like I should get a commercial break now

R: But ok walk me through it

E: Ok so when I went to the hospital I didn't bring my own meds. They just got my prescriptions from my patient portal. First night in I take them like normal and the next day I feel fine. Not amazing, but I don't feel like I'm being dragged from the back of a truck anymore

E: And the longer I'm there the better I get. They did screenings for schizophrenia and bipolar and everything and I didn't fit any of the profiles so they decided to write the clown off as stress and too much klonopin

E: And after three days I feel fucking amazing. Like I'm still fatigued as shit but besides that I feel fine

R: So you think Myra gave you something to mess you up?

E: She might not have even had to

E: Back in 2012 when hurricane sandy hit my pharmacy got flooded and whole city went to hell and I had to go three days without my Zoloft prescription, and I had really fuck awful withdrawal symptoms. Like way worse than the average person after just a few days. Skull-splitting headache, vomiting, suicidal thoughts, the manic rage and hallucinations are new so yeah that's fun

E: But as soon as I got back on it that all went away. But Myra was with me when it happened. She saw how fucked up I was. She'd know that all she'd have to do to fuck me over was swap out my Zoloft with placebos and I'd be out of commission

R: Did your pills look any different?

E: No but they're capsules and I get them all from her pharmacy. She could've put anything in them

E: All of my pills are fucking capsules

E: Even my vitamins. I get those prescribed too

R: You get your vitamins prescribed?

E: Yeah my insurance covers them and I know it only saves me like $13 from buying them off the shelf but that's still $13

R: Fair enough

E: But anyway, back in 2013 when we moved up here I switched pharmacies and suddenly all of my pills were fucking capsules. I didn't think it was a big deal. I thought maybe my doctor changed something when he switched me over, or maybe something changed with my insurance I don't fucking know, I didn't think it mattered

R: Jesus if she switched you over two years ago that's real fucking premeditated

E: Yeah that's kinda the impression

E: But I think she's been giving me shit since January. I mean, what are the odds that I tell her I'm leaving and then a month later I pass out from low blood pressure and no one has any fucking clue why? Then right after I tell her I'm leaving for good I suddenly fall ass deep into the worst episode of my life? It's all so fucking obvious in hindsight

R: Jesus fuck ok yeah I'm definitely with you. No objections from the peanut gallery so far

E: Also the weirdest shit is that I always started feeling better the days before I had an appointment. I thought it was just coincidence or maybe a psychosomatic thing, but I think she took me off whatever she was giving me so it wouldn't appear on any of the bloodwork. She gets home two hours before me. She could've changed anything she wanted

R: Did you tell any of your doctors this?

E: No. I wanted to so fucking badly, but I didn't want to be that guy in the psych ward who starts accusing his wife of poisoning him

R: Fair enough

E: Yeah I don't know how I did it. Sitting in therapy for three days completely lucid and pretending it was all just neurotic hypochondria. I know I should've told them. I should've but I didn't have any evidence and I was so scared they wouldn't believe me

R: But you're alright now? How are you feeling?

E: I'm fine now but I took my last Zoloft dose last night before checking out and I need another soon or I'll wind up right back where I was

R: Ok it's alright, we'll figure this out I promise

R: There's a flight leaving for JFK in two hours and I'm getting on it

R: Hang tight for maybe ten minutes I'm not going anywhere

**10:49AM EST**

R: Ok I just booked the flight and I got a suite at the hotel we were supposed to stay at. Tell me where you are and I'll send over an uber

E: I can get my own fucking uber

R: You sure? Is it hooked up to a private bank account? I just want to make sure Myra can't track your credit history

E: Shit you're right. Yeah my debit is hooked up to our joint account

E: Let me just get the address

E: Ok it's 237 Martine ave White Plains NY

R: Cool the app says it'll be there in 6 minutes

R: Do you have anything with you?

E: Just some clothes and my laptop. And I grabbed all the medication in the house. Even the DayQuil

R: Ok good you'll definitely need all that. Do you have any cash?

E: Yeah we had a couple hundred at home for emergencies that I took

E: I really don't like using cash because of germs but desperate times

R: Ok good. After you get in the uber you should call your doctor and tell him everything you just told me

E: What if he doesn't believe me?

R: Then give him my number I swear to god

R: But don't worry he'll believe you. I mean what other fucking explanation is there? You said yourself that he has no fucking clue what's wrong with you

E: It can't be that easy

R: Your wife is fucking poisoning you what's easy about any of this?

E: But if that's true, then I should go back to how I was before. At least I fucking hope so

E: But shit I just can't fucking conceptualize a world where I'm healthy. I've never been healthy. Even when I was running five miles a day and getting straight As on my physicals I never felt healthy. Not once

R: We'll work on that

E: The uber's here

E: I'll call him and get back to you after

R: Good luck

**11:44AM EST**

E: Well he believed me

E: It didn't take much convincing considering that literally every fucking pill he's prescribed me has been a tablet

R: Jesus

R: How the fuck did Myra think she could get away with something like that?

E: If anyone called her out on it I'm sure she would've just said there was a mistake in the computer system or something. I've had shit like that happen even when I wasn't being actively poisoned

E: But hey can you change the uber drop off spot? My doctor wants me to come to his office right away. He said they have contacts with the police for this kind of thing

R: Sure what's the address?

E: 219 W 26th st

R: Done. Did it go through?

E: Yeah we're good

E: I hope my driver's having fun. I bet he enjoyed my extended phone call on the details of my wife's true crime charges

R: I'm sure you'll be making an appearance on the message boards soon

R: I might be on airplane mode by the time you get out of the office so the hotel address is 8 Stone St, room 1404. Can you get there on your own?

E: That's like four blocks from where I work. I think I can figure it out

E: Wait who's watching Slipper?!

R: I texted my manager and he's going to feed her. Don't worry she's definitely higher on my priority list than you

E: That's fair. But make sure you tell him to check her for signs of salmonella. Pet shops are full of it

R: I'll give him the memo

R: But you're all good?

E: Yeah. It's stupid but I'm still scared he'll have guys in white coats waiting for me. I told him that if Myra tried getting in touch to just ignore her, but hey, she's not the one who just got out of the psych ward. I mean I know they can't legally do anything unless they think I'm going to hurt myself, but I just can't believe I'm getting out of this so easy

R: He said after four months of being poisoned

E: Fucking shit I feel like I need to give back my masters. And my bachelors. And my high school diploma, and maybe my 4th grade spelling bee trophy while I'm at it

E: I mean, I'm that guy in a horror movie who moved into the murder house and thought all the shit going on was just bad plumbing

E: How could I be so fucking stupid?

R: You're not stupid. Do you know how rare shit like this is?

E: It can't be that rare considering that my mom did the same thing to me

R: Wait what?

R: Shit my taxi just dropped me off and I have to get through security right fucking now if I want to make it, but hold that fucking thought

E: Yeah I'm like three blocks from my doctor's office anyway. Don't you fucking dare miss that plane

**12:59PM EST**

E: Are you on the plane?

R: Yeah there was a delay but we should be taking off in like 15 minutes

R: So what's the status?

E: We got in touch with the police and poison control and they're taking all the medication I brought to the lab for testing. They said it might take a while to figure out what everything is, but if anything isn't what it says on the label they'll know right away and that'll be grounds for an arrest

R: Fuck that's great news! When will you find out?

E: Tomorrow hopefully. Maybe even later tonight. My doctor said it's urgent since he might have to put me on microdoses of whatever I was on to make sure I don't have any serious withdrawal complications

E: He also sent my Zoloft prescription to a CVS around the corner so I'm going to pick it up then check in at the hotel

R: God I'm so proud of you

R: But wait what's this shit about your mom?

E: Yeah that might be a lot to get into right now

E: But remember those pills I mentioned taking as a kid? I don't think there was anything in them. I think they were placebos

R: Why would she do that?

E: To make me think I was sick

R: Shit

R: Fuck I think the same thing happened to that kid I had a crush on. Guess I have a type

R: Ok the stewardess is glaring at me but I'll be there in 6 hours

E: Hurry the fuck up

**6:17PM EST**

R: We just landed. I didn't check a bag so I'm getting straight in a taxi and heading over

E: Cool

E: Hey you're Richie Tozier right?


	28. May 28 - Night

R: What gave it away?

E: Well I drew up a spreadsheet and quantified all the variables and geomapped your location and no you fucking dumbass you booked the room under your name

R: Oh right that's how reservations work

R: So you feeling catfished? Should I get back on the plane and turn around?

E: You better be hauling ass here right fucking now

R: On it

E: But you want to know something crazy? Like really fuck off crazy? I knew it was you the entire goddamn time

E: I mean I watched your last special literally two weeks before we started texting. Every fucking detail matches up. Of course it's fucking you. And I was always picturing you the way you are, but it never crossed my mind for a second that you might be the same person

E: I mean everything fucking fits. 39, glasses, terrible at passing, every fucking detail. Except you're a lot funnier here than on stage

R: Yeah I haven't written my own material in a couple years

E: Why not?

R: Clinical depression

E: Yeah that'll do it

E: But you want to know something even crazier?

E: I've known you for a really long fucking time

E: I don't know why I forgot you, but now I remember everything

E: Can you remember me too?

E: Have you figured it out yet?

R: Eds?

E: Were you expecting someone else?

R: Eddie?

R: Jesus fuck Eddie

E: You need a minute? I did too. But I figured it out like 5 hours ago so I'm over it

R: Eddie how in the fucking hell

E: I don't know. I paid $30k for my stats MS and it was all a fucking waste because apparently statistical probabilities are a heap of horseshit

E: But how much do you remember? About being a kid?

R: I remember you. Everything about you

R: Shit the others too

R: God the others

E: You remember all their names? It took me a while but I managed to write them all down

**7:11PM EST**

E: You there?

R: Yeah sorry I had to throw up

E: Hey don't rush if you really need a minute

R: No I'm fine. I'm fucking getting there

R: Fuck my hand hurts

E: Do you have the scar?

R: Yeah

R: Holy fuck

E: And you remember Derry?

R: Yeah

E: The clown?

R: Yeah

R: Fuck I feel like I'm still on the plane and having an Inception moment

R: Or maybe I'm that one in 5.4 million unlucky bastard who's now dead in a field outside of Omaha

E: No I think it's real. It's all fucking real

R: No we can't fucking go back there

R: I'm not fucking doing that

R: I can't fucking

E: Hey chill, remember what Ben said? It comes back every 27 years. We still have a whole year to figure shit out

R: How are you so calm?

E: In the last five hours I've turbo recalled you, Derry, my whole fucking childhood, and the fact that monsters are real. You know how sometimes the worse a situation gets the calmer you feel?

R: Yeah hopefully I'll make it there soon

**7:33PM EST**

R: Ok I just got a taxi

E: I'm proud of you

R: But ok shit

R: So wait you think the clown is the reason we decided to book a honeymoon suite without bothering to ask each other's names?

E: Either that or we're just the biggest dumb fucks on the planet

R: They don't have to be mutually exclusive

R: But wow shit this explains a lot

R: So wait we really just forgot out whole ass childhoods but then started texting and our lives suddenly became flashback montages?

E: Yeah I've no fucking answers. But I think we should try to contact the others and see what happens

R: Yeah we probably should

R: But please not right now

R: God I can't believe you watched my shit and never recognized me

R: You're the little shit who almost took my eye out!

E: Yeah and then I cried by your hospital bed for hours while you rambled about videogames

R: I was trying to calm you down

E: Guess some things never change

R: Fuck that balloon I saw on your mailbox. It was red

E: Shit. Yeah I remember I saw your text but didn't know what you were talking about. I figured it must've been an old satellite photo. But fucking hindsight huh

R: But it can't leave Derry right? If it could the whole world would be fucked

E: I don't think it actually left

E: Hear me out. It can obviously control some things outside of Derry right? Otherwise we probably would've exchanged selfies before we started sexting

E: I think it managed to get in my head somehow. I mean, it feeds off fear right? And last weekend was the scariest fucking experience of my life. Maybe that's the in it needed

E: I mean if it wasn't a hallucination it would've kept coming after me right?

R: I hope so

R: I mean, I hope it was just smoke and mirrors

E: I only saw it for half a second but I swear it was in my head

E: But I can't figure out why you saw the balloon

R: Hey I was fucking terrified too. Maybe it didn't come across in my texts, but yeah I couldn't sleep and could barely type my hands were shaking so hard. I was so scared you were really sick and you'd die before I got there. So fucking terrified. That was probably enough for a low-grade clown hallucination

E: Yeah that makes sense. As much as any of this does

E: Also I think the clown is what made me say all that shit to you

E: We saw it impersonate other people before right?

E: I just remember seeing fucking red. Literal red. Balloon red

E: It covered everything and I could see what I was typing but didn't know why and I heard it laughing in my head and I wanted to stop but couldn't. And when it was over I felt my head snap and nearly blacked out

R: Well that's an explanation and a half

E: It wanted you to hate me. I know that's what it wanted. That's what it wanted when we were kids too right?

R: Damn I'm getting real fucking sick of getting hate crimed by that bitch

R: I mean it makes sense. If it wanted to drive me away I can't think of anything worse it could've possibly said

E: You still texted me back the next day though

R: You think I was just gonna abandon you in your closet?

E: I wouldn't have blamed you if you did

E: But I think it went away after you replied. That's when I stopped hearing its laugh

E: I think it's because talking to you made me less scared

R: That's some real emotional logic right there

E: Yeah and some weak ass magic

R: Wait the fucking turtle!

E: Yeah I was gonna bring that up. I was reading through all the texts you left me. By the way dude get some fucking hobbies

E: But the turtle's definitely a thing right?

E: What it told you has got to be some eldritch shit

R: Make it small

R: You think turtle man was talking about it with a capital I?

E: That's what I was thinking

E: Don't know what it means though

R: Jesus it couldn't have given me something a bit meatier?

R: Make it small, what the fuck does that even mean? That's like a vague instruction from one of my mom's old cookbooks

E: But the turtle's on our side right?

R: It better be! I'll have to get Steve to put Slipper on the phone. Maybe she can give us some insight. Fucking little demigod

E: At least we have a year to figure it out. Between the seven of us we're bound to dig up at least one good idea

R: I hope so. Remember when we stole a copy of that trig test two periods early and between all of us we managed to get around a 97%

E: Then Mr Johnson flunked us for all having the same answers and I got a B in the class and that's why I didn't get into any ivy leagues

R: You also only got a 1340 on the SAT

E: How the fuck do you remember that?! I didn't even remember that!

R: Because I got a 1410 and wouldn't stop rubbing it in

R: Shit why is there so much traffic?

E: It's New York on a Saturday night

R: I need to fucking see you

R: Really see you

E: How do you think I feel?! You were on airplane mode for five and a half fucking hours!

R: Hey last week I rearranged my whole damn schedule to your convenience!

E: You didn't have a schedule to begin with

R: You were my schedule

R: Damn do you still have to go into work on Monday?

E: Yeah probably

E: Happy birthday to me

R: Ok we just turned off on 278 so we're getting close

R: I can't believe we're in the same city

R: I'm going to fucking see you

R: When's the last time we saw each other?

E: Right after graduation when my mom and I moved to Bangor

E: You hugged me and fucking pressed your nose in my hair. Did you think you were being sneaky?

R: I may have gotten a bit hard too. But I was crying so it was real confusing

E: I promised I'd take the bus back on weekends to visit you

R: Then you didn't. Worst summer of my life. But then I went to school 40 miles south and forgot it all anyway

E: I wanted to kiss you then so fucking badly

R: Me too

R: I wasn't sure if you'd let me

E: I would've. I was just scared to make the first move

R: Thank god you got over that

R: But you'll let me kiss you now right?

E: I'd like that

E: But not right away cause you did just puke in an airport

R: Fair

R: We're going over the Brooklyn bridge

R: Jesus you're like a olympic sprint away from me

R: I could probably beat the olympic record if I got out right now

E: Just keep texting me til you get here

R: I'm not even checking in I'm just coming straight up

R: I won't have my keycard so you'll let me in right?

E: I have your card up here already

R: God this city has never felt so fucking big

R: We're a block away

E: I'm looking down at the street

R: Almost there

E: I think I see you


	29. Epilogue

Despite spending the last forty-five minutes sitting on his ass in a cab, Richie’s breathing is so ragged he swears he can taste blood. His fingers tremble as he tries to slide his card through the payment pad bolted to the plastic partition between him and the driver. He punches in his pin, only for the screen to vindictively beep and flash the word ERROR.

He grits his teeth and tries again, knowing he could very well be charged twice, but he doesn’t care. He just blew $900 on the plane ticket and another $2000 on the hotel. He doesn’t give a fuck about shelling out an extra $75 so long as it gets him in that fucking hotel and one step closer to the room waiting for him on the fourteenth floor.

This time the payment pad lets out a cheerful beep as it completes the transaction, and Richie already has one foot on the curb before the driver can ask if he wants a receipt. He slings his duffle bag over his shoulder. It doesn’t have much in it. A random assortment of dirty clothes, his medication, a novel he left in there from his last trip two months ago that he never read and never bothered taking out.

He keeps his head down as he walks through the revolving doors and into the yellow glow of the lobby. He must look sketchy as fuck speed-walking through the marble foyer with his head bowed low as he passes a gaggle of businessmen with rolexes loitering around the bar. He bypasses the service desk without making eye contact and almost breaks into a run when he catches sight of the elevators.

He pushes the button with his knuckle and watches it light up obediently. Then he waits, and waits; the red numbers above the door blinking down aggressively slow, like the loading bar on a software update. He pulls his phone out again. Eddie’s last text was sent only three minutes ago, but it feels so much longer.

He lived in this city for most of his adult life, but stepping off the plane felt like walking into an unknown country in an unknown world. The pilot must have crossed a timeline or two along the way. The second the wheels hit the tarmac he became the protagonist in something much bigger. The people around him: the people at the bar, the reception desk, in the rooms above him, they don’t know what he knows. They don’t know that monsters are real.

Finally, the elevator dings, and slowly, ever so slowly, the doors slide open.

It’s empty. Thank god. He steps inside and hits the Close Door button before even punching in his floor.

Then he steps back into the corner, leaning against the panopticon of mirrors that comprise the walls and ceiling. He turns his head to take in his reflection, and predictably, he looks like shit. He looks like an insomniac who was just sitting on a plane for six hours in an award-winning state of anxiety. His face is unshaven, but not in the carefully groomed way it is for late night appearances. No, he objectively looks terrible. But at least no one in either airport recognized him. Or if they did they kept it to themselves. He wore his standard travel ensemble of a hoodie, sunglasses, bland jeans, and grey sneakers; the kind of outfit that says: “I’m a celebrity; please leave me the fuck alone.”

6\. 7. 8. 9.

He sucks in a gulp of air. He wants to see if he can hold his breath until he gets to the fourteenth floor. He used to do that as a kid. Sitting in the backseat of the car, holding his breath between telephone poles, seeing how long he could last. God, he misses being a kid. Back when holding his breath was enough to keep him entertained.

How could he forget all that? How could he have spent the last twenty-one fucking years with no memory of the town he was born in? No memory of the growing pains in his shins, the thrill of staying up past midnight, or the fun of filling up the ceramic bathtub abandoned on Mike’s property and building a fire underneath to see how hot they could get the water before taking turns in it. Everything that made him the person he became. He lost all of it. Yet for some fucking reason he still remembered the quadratic formula.

10\. 11. 12.

He swears the elevator is slowing down. He strains his ears for the sound of screeching metal. It’ll stop halfway between floors, trapping him inside. His reception is probably dead in here. He won’t be able to tell Eddie where he is. He could be stuck in here for hours before the fire brigade gets him out. The clown could be lurking in the mirrors. A cage and a hunting ground. By the time the doors slide open all that could be left of him are some ravaged remains splatted across the glass.

No, stop, don’t think shit like that. That’s what it wants you to think. It wants you to be afraid so it can get inside your head. Make you see shit. Fuck with you. Make you hurt yourself, watch you suffer. But it’s not here. It’s up in Derry and it can’t leave. You’re safe. You beat its ass as a kid and said you weren’t afraid and you meant it. Don’t be afraid now.

14.

The doors glide open with a condescending “ding,” and Richie doesn’t wait for them to separate more than a foot before he’s squeezing out and dashing down the hall, accidentally going several meters in the wrong direction before skidding on his heels and turning back around.

1428\. 1426. 1424.

Maybe meeting here was a mistake. He should’ve told Eddie to come down to the lobby where there’d be witnesses. If horror movies have taught him anything, it’s that nothing good ever happens in hotel hallways. Maybe he should’ve booked an Airbnb instead. Fuck, he should’ve done that anyway so Eddie could have a real kitchen. Stupid, stupid.

1422\. 1420. 1418.

Eddie is so close to him. So close. And again, he feels like a fucking idiot for ever thinking it could be anyone else.

Of course it’s Eddie. It’s never been anyone but Eddie. Their texts were practically plagiarized from past conversations. Even Eddie’s speech habits, the words he overused, his humor, his inflection, even through the flat canvas of his phone Richie could hear it all in his head. Eddie’s voice reading along with him.

He can’t imagine standing in a parallel timeline, walking down the exact same hallway, entering room 1404 only to be confronted with a stranger’s face.

He remembers reading 1984 in high school. When the government decided to switch the wars for no reason. “Oceania was at war with Eurasia: Oceania had always been at war with Eurasia.” Instantaneously history was rewritten, the past erased, logic rendered obsolete. Maybe an allegory for fascism wasn’t the best comparison, but that line just jumped into his head.

“The man on the phone was Eddie: the man on the phone had always been Eddie.”

It was Eddie in all his dreams, but two different versions. In some he was that teenage boy from the summer of 1989, and in others he was the age he is now. Richie wonders if his brain put Eddie’s eighteen-year-old face through some sort of digital aging software, or if the turtle was nice enough to give him a real glimpse of the man in the room only several steps away from him.

1404.

It arrives out of nowhere.

He didn’t think he would make it this far.

He stares at the brass numbers affixed to the door, feeling like he’s in another dream. That every door in this hallway will open to another memory. Another version of Eddie. Another nightmare waiting with a jagged smile and open arms.

He’s sweating. His hands are shaking. With a loose fist he knocks against the door. Three loud taps, choking back the urge to call out Eddie’s name.

He nearly does, but before he can gather the air, the door swings open.

Richie patiently waits for the other shoe to drop. The illusion to disintegrate. To wake up and realize that the man standing in front of him is not Eddie at all, but just another hallucination conjured up by the clown that’s lurked in the background of his nightmares for the last twenty-six years.

“Hey man,” Eddie says, his left lip curving up into a half-smile that Richie remembers.

It’s his voice. The exact same voice. Well it’s a bit lower than it was at eighteen, but Richie would still recognize it anywhere.

And it’s the same face from his dreams. Not a fraternal twin offshoot, but the exact same face. The same worry lines and blotchy complexion. His cheeks are more angular than they were in high school, but that could just be a symptom of the weight loss. He also has what looks to be a week-old beard matching Richie’s own, which is funny considering that the last time they saw each other neither of them could grow more than thin, oily mustaches. And Richie’s not sure why, but for some reason he expected Eddie to have a bandage on his left cheek, and it takes him a second to adjust to the fact that it’s not there. Like when you turn your head too quick and swear you see a ghost in your periphery.

But it’s him. It’s really him. Even his expression is so achingly familiar.

“Okay, that’s freaky as shit,” Richie says, like he just watched a magic trick a bit too good.

“Thanks fuckface, nice to see you too.”

Richie laughs. A breathy laugh that makes his lungs ache just a bit less.

“Sorry, it’s just… you look like you. But older.”

“Yeah dipshit, that’s how it’s supposed to work. You obviously didn’t get the memo.”

Richie lets out a sputter of a laugh, but his cheeks rise at the wrong angle and push two tears from the corners of his eyes. He pauses, confused, his smile fading as more tears fall in quick succession. He’s not even sure where they’re coming from. How long they’ve been waiting.

“Hey, come here,” Eddie says softly, placing a hand on his arm and guiding him through the door.

He steps inside far enough that Eddie can close the door behind them. Then Richie’s just standing there on the off-cream carpet. His throat sore, eyes stinging, his hands rigidly gripping his duffle bag.

Eddie’s no more than a foot away from him, but Richie’s still scared to properly touch him. He’s scared to discover that what they had before is now gone. That they've changed a thousand times over since high school and their bodies will no longer recognize each other.

But Richie knows that’s not true. He can already feel it. And he feels like an idiot for not recognizing it from the very first message. That shudder of deja vu, that latent attraction, that need to reply, to keep talking, to know the person on the other end. It never could have been anyone else.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Eddie asks, scanning him head to toe.

“It’s my celebrity in an airport get up.”

“You look like you’re on your way to assassinate a senator.”

Richie gives a small laugh under his breath, and that’s when the tears return in earnest. He clenches his eyes tight and bows his head, his face pinching into something unattractive as the first sobs break the air.

A second later, Eddie is circling his arms around his neck and pressing himself close against his chest, burying his forehead in the dip of his shoulder.

Richie lets his duffle bag drop to the floor, then he wraps his arms around Eddie’s ribcage and clutches at the fabric of his shirt. His chin naturally comes to rest on his shoulder as he closes his eyes and lets the logic of the room spiral around him. He’s glad Eddie can’t see his face right now. The wrinkles around his eyes and the snot dripping from his nose. His throat already sore from the strain of vomiting now contacting even tighter as the sobs break between his teeth.

How are you supposed to hug someone you haven’t seen in twenty-one years? How can you possibly convey everything you’ve missed? All the memories you had to live without them? Richie wants to bleed them out. He wants to put his memories on a projector so Eddie can see his own opaque absence from Richie’s life.

Alone at nineteen in his shoebox of an apartment, sleeping beneath a tablecloth on a bare mattress. Alone at twenty-three, waiting for the subway at 2am after getting fucked by a desk drone at Omnicon. Alone at twenty-six, cutting up lines in his bedroom after getting paid $500 to perform at the New York Comedy Festival and immediately blowing it all on coke. Alone on his birthday in 2009, recently settled in LA with not nearly enough junk to fill his two-bedroom house. Sleeping on the couch for a month because what was the point in assembling his bed when he had no one to share it with?

Alone last night. And the night before that and the night before that. The gnawing loneliness that grew through him like a fungus, and all the shame he felt for letting it fester. He could have gotten rid of it at any time. He could’ve gone out searching for someone who would make it go away. But he didn’t. He just sat around waiting with masochistic certainty that this is what he deserved. That no one would take him even if he asked.

How can anyone convey all that loneliness? How can he show Eddie how much he missed him? How much he felt him? Like a vanished twin, a cluster of cells forever nested in his skin, subtly shaping him into the person he became. How can he make up for twenty-one years of being desperate to fall in love only to realize that he was already in love the entire fucking time? He was sending out love like texts with no data. Error message after error message. Twenty-one years of missed messages. Voicemails that never went through. A constant ringing phone with no one picking up. Just waiting and waiting for someone, anyone, to answer.

Then someone did, and Richie doesn’t know what to do besides hold Eddie close and hope that he can feel everything he doesn’t have the words for. It’s been almost twenty-one years exactly since they last hugged each other. It was two weeks after Eddie’s eighteenth birthday. The one where Richie made him edibles and Eddie complained for an hour that they weren’t working and then proceeded to sit on the floor trying and failing to build a house of cards with adorable discoordination before passing out on the couch till morning.

Richie lets out a jagged laugh at the memory. God, there are so many memories left. Thousands of them. All coming back in fragments. He’ll have to write them all down. Every single one in case he forgets again. He remembers the last hug they shared before saying goodbye. It was bittersweet, irreverent, brief. They were standing on the sidewalk as Eddie’s mom was honking from the car, but they didn’t properly say goodbye because Eddie promised he’d be back soon. Within the next couple weeks probably, and Richie didn’t have any reason to doubt him.

But he didn’t come back. He didn’t call. Didn’t write. And Richie spent the summer chain-smoking out his bedroom window with the phone at his side waiting for Eddie to call.

In retrospect, maybe they weren’t the worst months of his life, but the memories still cause a fresh round of tears to spill over as the sobs pulse in his chest.

Eddie’s right hand comes up to cradle the back of his head and scratch against his hair, evoking goosebumps down Richie’s arms. He brings his own hand up to cup the base of Eddie’s skull, rubbing softly at the head of his spine. Eddie’s hair is slightly damp against his cheek, and his neck smells beautiful and clean.

This is everything he’s ever wanted. Everything. Everything he’s been waiting for, everything he told himself wasn’t possible. The person in his arms is the same person he fell in love with back in middle school. The same seven-year-old boy who got put in timeout for yelling “shit” after getting caught in a game of tag. That boy who grew into the teenager who ranted about the flaws of every movie, pushed pencils so hard they were dull within a few strokes, and had music taste so picky he might only like one out of every twenty CDs or cassettes Richie lent him.

That teenage boy who was always so worried about everyone and everything. So scared and so angry about being scared. The one who spent the night at Richie’s place in junior year, and Richie brought a packet of Oreos down to the basement while they watched TV and Eddie took one bite before he started crying and confessed that his mom had just been diagnosed with diabetes and he felt like the worst son in the world because he was more scared for himself than he was for her. And Richie related because he hugged him while he cried and felt like shit for enjoying it.

Eddie’s that same person. His DNA hasn’t changed. They’re the same height as when they last said goodbye. Their bodies have changed, but they still fit together with just as much familiarity. They’re the same people, and Richie feels like he’s cumulatively experiencing every moment of happiness he’s ever felt in his life.

They hold each other for a while longer, gently rubbing at each other’s hair, rocking on the balls of their feet. They’re barely sharing any skin, but Eddie feels so warm, and fuck, Richie wants to run his hands up under his shirt just to feel his skin, like warming his hands by a bonfire. He wants to stay in this room for a week at least, until the entire building smells like them. He never wants to send Eddie another goddamn text ever again. He wants to hear his voice with every word. He wants nothing except for this. He wants him so badly.

“Have you had anything to eat?” Eddie mumbles against his shoulder, breaking the silence as their swaying comes to a halt.

“I had some pretzels on the plane,” he answers, his sobbing thankfully at an end. He also had some cereal before leaving the house, but that’s it. He knows he should be hungry. He should be starving. But the anxiety, adrenaline, and nausea have tampered down his appetite pretty effectively.

Eddie gently pulls away, running his hands over Richie’s shoulders and down his arms until he’s lightly holding his wrists, as if checking for a pulse.

“I got take-out if you want some. I wasn’t sure what’d you like, but I remembered you mentioned Thai once, so I got some of that.”

Richie can’t even remember that, but he smiles because obviously Eddie did.

“Thanks. What about you? Have you had anything?”

“Yeah, I had some earlier.”

Richie regards him with mild surprise. Eddie seemed pretty insistent that he couldn’t eat restaurant food, but maybe the enormity of everything else has been enough to drown out his lesser anxieties.

“And you’re feeling alright?” Richie asks.

Eddie gives a small nod. “Yeah, I’m feeling good.”

Then he gives Richie that same half-smile, slightly awkward and forced, but Richie can see the genuine relief behind it.

God, he’s so fucking beautiful.

His eyes are exactly the same. His hair, skin, and the proportions of his face have all subtly shifted, but the rings in his eyes are identical. They’re the same eyes he competed with during countless staring contests. The eyes in the photographs he memorized that summer after Eddie left him. The eyes he looked into the last time they said goodbye.

The air between them goes heavy as Eddie’s smile relaxes, his thumb gently rubbing circles on Richie’s inner wrist. Then Eddie’s eyes dart down to his lips, and Richie knows that’s all the permission he needs to start leaning forward. Eddie does the same, and Richie closes his eyes in anticipation.

“Wait,” Eddie says, pulling his head back. “Brush your teeth first.”

After a short beat of rejection, Richie lets out a small laugh. Right, he forgot about that. Right on cue the acid on his tongue flares up as a reminder.

“Right,” he replies, then gives Eddie’s cheek a small pat just like when they were kids, and he’s relieved when Eddie smiles into it instead of swatting his hand away.

Richie bends down to grab his duffle bag and carry it into the bathroom on his right. He unzips it and digs out his toiletry bag, which doesn’t contain much besides his toothbrush, some antacids, and a box of condoms he bought in Vancouver three months ago and ended up not needing.

As he turns on the faucet to wet his brush it occurs to him that this is his first time brushing his teeth since he found Eddie again, and what a ridiculous milestone that is. How long will he be measuring things that way? His first time driving, watching a movie, eating a pickle, sleeping in his car, millions of new first times in this new chapter of his life and how stupid is that?

He smiles as he pushes a generous glob of toothpaste onto his brush, aware that Eddie is standing in the doorway and will not hesitate to correct his technique.

“You remember Beverly, right?” Eddie asks. “Turns out she’s right here in Manhattan. She’s this really big fashion designer. She and her husband own Rogan Marsh. You know, that brand that’s sort of like Ann Taylor, but for celebrities pretending to have office jobs? I passed by one of their stores on the way down here.”

Richie spits into the sink before turning on the tap to cup a mouthful of water.

“I passed by one of their stores in the airport,” he says after rinsing out his mouth. “Guess she really made it, huh?”

“Seems like it. You think we should get in touch with her?”

“How? Seems like she’s past the point of accepting friend requests.”

“You’re a celebrity. Tell her you want a suit or something.”

Richie gives a small laugh as he runs some water over his face, remembering that beautiful girl with red hair and nicotine-stained teeth who shaved her armpits with the blade of a boxcutter because she couldn’t afford razors. The girl who tailored her own homecoming dress and snuck him extra refills when she waitressed at the diner.

“God, Beverly Marsh,” he sighs reverently, basking in the memory of drawing obscene doodles on each other’s arms in ballpoint pen and letting her cut his hair while drunk. That charming girl who his parents were so terrified he’d fall in love with.

“What about the others?” he asks.

“Well, Bill’s out in LA. He’s written a shit ton of books and is either Hemingway or a hack depending on which forum you’re lurking in. Ben’s some big shot architect working on a hotel in Beijing. I think Stan’s running an accounting firm down in Atlanta, but I couldn’t find enough info to confirm it’s him. And it looks like Mike’s still up in Derry.”

“Shit, what New England demigod did _he_ piss off?”

“Don’t know, but it looks like he’s working in the library up there.”

“I thought that was Ben’s gig?”

“Hey, I’m just the messenger.”

Richie crosses his arms and leans back against the counter, absorbing everything Eddie just relayed.

“You think they’re like us? You think they forgot everything?”

“I hope so. The alternative is we were such big assholes they just never bothered staying in touch.”

Richie lets out a short laugh at the thought, imaging their five absentee friends regularly meeting up for brunch over the last twenty-one years just to shit-talk them.

God, there were six of them. Six whole people who formed his adolescence and guided him through the most formative years of his life. Allowing him to absorb facets of their personalities as they built off each other like siblings.

They need to find them again, and not just to figure out how to take down whatever’s still lurking in the sewers. Richie needs to find them so he can remember exactly what each of their laughs sounded like. So they can reminisce over their best memories and muse over the worst and rebuild themselves like scattered puzzles. 

They need to get in touch, which should be easy enough. It sounds like Eddie already did most of the heavy lifting. Hell, if Bev’s in Manhattan then they could feasibly meet with her on Monday, although ambushing her at work might be a dick move considering Richie’s reaction at the airport.

But they’ll find them. Find them all and–

“Wait, shit, have you heard anything from Myra?” Richie blurts out, that major plot point suddenly asserting itself to the forefront of his attention.

Eddie’s mouth twitches, his posture going taut.

“Nothing. Not even a text. I left a note on the door saying I was leaving, but my guess is she knows why I cleared out her medicine cabinet.”

Shit. No contact is a bad sign. Worse than if she were flooding his inbox.

“You think she made a run for it?”

“Yeah, probably,” Eddie says with a shrug that couldn’t be more unconvincing. “But hey, it’s 2015. We practically have tracking chips in our heads. She won’t get very far.”

God, Richie hopes not.

“Do you have any idea what she was planning? Long-term?” he asks hesitantly, his morbid curiosity getting the better of him.

“You mean do I think she was planning to kill me?”

Richie goes cold at the words, even though, yes, that was his implication.

“I don’t know.” Eddie shrugs again. “I hope she was just trying to keep me sick enough that I couldn’t move out, but how long could she have gotten away with that? I mean, my withdrawal symptoms would’ve cleared up eventually, and then what? I don’t know. But remember that food poisoning I mentioned a while back? I don’t think it was food poisoning. And I’m starting to suspect that she didn’t have to leave nursing school because of some vague autoimmune condition.”

Eddie’s voice is progressively getting higher, the forced casualness peeling away as the tears swell in his eyes.

“I mean, she was probably going to kill me at some point, right? Someone would’ve figured it out eventually. But I have this really fucked up thought that maybe she took me off my Zoloft hoping that I’d take care of it for her.”

He chokes on the last sentence, his breaths going tight.

“You remember what my mom did, right?”

“The gazebos? Yeah, I remember.”

Eddie nods as he crosses his arms over his chest, looking ready to crumple to the floor.

“How the fuck did I manage to step in the exact same shit?”

Richie finally steps forward and wraps his arms around his shoulders, pulling him close against his chest, crossed arms and all.

“We’ll blame that one on the clown too,” Richie says. “I’m blaming everything on that fucker. My bad reviews, my broken laptop, that parking ticket I got last month, all his fucking fault.”

Eddie gives a stifled laugh against his shoulder. His whole frame shaking, his sobs punctuated by high whines and tight gasps of air, and Richie knows there’s nothing he can do except rub his back and hold him close, just like he did many times before in the dim light of his childhood bedroom or basement. Then Eddie inches closer until they’re standing toe to toe, so close that the chaperons from their middle school dances are probably rolling in their graves.

“I’ll gain the weight back. Fast, hopefully,” Eddie sobs against his shoulder, sucking snot back into his nose.

Richie’s about to say that it doesn’t matter, but now that Eddie’s mentioned it, he realizes that the notches in his spine do feel more prominent than might be considered healthy. Richie already noticed his sunken cheeks, and now that he’s hugging him, it’s easy to tell just how loose his clothes are hanging.

“Oh yeah? You’re not into the 90s heroin chic look?”

“If I couldn’t pull it off in college I definitely can’t now.”

Richie can’t even feign a laugh because he knows there’s too much truth behind those words. Near the end of high school Eddie was already provoking worried whispers among the teachers. He’d always been skinny, but it got a lot worse real fast after his mom’s diabetes diagnosis. In the following months the standards of what he was willing to put in his body seemed to grow impossibly high.

He never ate the cafeteria food to begin with, but then he stopped eating food from potlucks, and buffets. He wouldn’t eat meat unless it was practically burnt. Food that’d been left out of the fridge for more than half an hour was disqualified immediately. One by one the staples of his diet were culled to the point where Richie’s parents had no idea what to make for him when he came over for dinner. Richie remembers one time they were on a field trip and Eddie was starving, but the only snack Richie had to offer was a bag of potato chips, and Eddie ate one chip before deciding that the hunger was preferable to the saturated fats.

God, what must it have been like to go to college and forget all that? To wake up treading water out in the middle of the ocean with no idea how you got there? The frustration of having all the answers locked in your past with no way to access them. No way to grow past them. To just wake up one day with cuts all over your body with no idea how they got there despite the pain being very real.

It must have been frustrating. Richie knows because he’s frustrated too. In fact, he’s fucking angry.

He could’ve grown so much in the last twenty-one years. All those lessons he learned in childhood, all those experiments, all those mistakes, ripped away like the first chapter of a book, leaving him with the social maturity of a newborn.

He never got to move on from any of the bullshit childhood threw at him. Instead it sat in the back of his head like a bag of rotten vegetables that had fallen behind the counter, decomposing and growing more putrid with time, taunting him because he had no idea where the smell was coming from or how to get rid of it. As soon as he left Derry he was forced to start from scratch, and he dragged his feet through so much shit in the process of growing up all over again and it’s not fucking fair.

Fuck, he doesn’t want to be angry right now, even though being angry is better than being scared. He just wants to stay here with Eddie, because no matter how fucking mad he is, this is still objectively the happiest moment of his life.

“Hey, you want to see some cute pictures of Slipper?”

Eddie gives a small laugh. “Yes, please.”

Richie smiles and presses a kiss to the top of his head.

“Okay, come on, you’ll want to be sitting down for this.”

He takes Eddie’s hand and leads him out of the bathroom and towards the king-sized bed in the center of the room. As soon as his ass hits the mattress it sends an ache radiating through his muscles, a latent exhaustion flaring up with the soft dip of the sheets.

Then he takes out his phone: the phone that’s been welded to his hand for the last two weeks. He carried it with him through every room, holding it close as if Eddie were actually trapped inside. He’s been having nightmares about dropping it lately. Watching it slip out of his hand and shatter against the floor, his only tether to Eddie lost forever.

His fingers are trembling as he punches in his passcode and opens his photo reel, skimming through the hundred-odd pictures he’s taken of Slipper in the last three days. Sometimes it felt like the little push and pull of her head and the strokes of her flippers were the only things keeping him cogent in Eddie’s absence.

“Okay, here she is being cute in her tank. Here’s another of her being cute in her tank. And this one’s a real centerfold: another of her being cute in her tank.”

Richie slides through the various pictures: Slipper paddling through the water, chilling on her rock, munching on some lettuce, small snapshots of her peaceful little life.

Thankfully the pictures seem to have the desired effect because when he looks up Eddie is smiling.

“She’s perfect. Didn’t you want a pet turtle when you were a kid?”

“Shit, you’re right, I did. Our class in third grade had one, right?”

“Yeah, Myrtle. Slipper’s cuter though.”

“Damn right she is. Hey, remember that turtle nest we found down by the river?”

“Yeah.” Eddie nods. “We picked a bunch of blackberries from that bush by the trail and left them in a pile by their nest. I guess they liked us so much they told their elder god to give us a hand.”

Eddie turns to rest his forehead on Richie’s shoulder, and Richie wraps an arm around him in return.

“You know I would’ve stayed in touch, right?” Eddie says. “I would’ve visited you every fucking weekend. You went to Central Community College, right?”

“Yeah, and you went to Colby.”

“Jesus, we were an easy bus ride away from each other. I could’ve seen you all the fucking time. What a fucking waste.”

Richie wishes he could contradict him. He wishes he could find some silver lining amidst all this bullshit. But no, Eddie’s right, it was a fucking waste. He doesn’t want to dig some half-assed moral out of this. He was robbed of his whole fucking childhood and never socially matured past adolescence. He lost the six most important people in his life all because some fucking demon clown decided to brainwash him as one last fuck you.

Sure, at least they’re together now, but god, they could have had another twenty-one years. Richie doesn’t want to think about all the things they could have done with that time. It was a waste, and he’ll probably die angry about it.

“Make it small,” he whispers, resting his chin on Eddie’s head. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll kill it. Then I’m fucking keeping you.”

Eddie sniffles out a laugh. “Took the words right out of my mouth.”

“Wait, that reminds me, I got you something for your birthday.” Richie lifts his head away to scroll back through his phone. “I mean, it’s just something I wrote. And technically it wasn’t even meant for you. But remember that childhood friend I wouldn’t shut up about?”

“Yeah, I was batshit jealous of him.”

“Aw, that’s too bad. I was hoping you guys might get along. But anyway, I was thinking about looking him up. I never got that far, but I did write him a message.”

Richie opens the most recent file in his notes app. He typed it up on his couch two nights ago around the time that the letters of Eddie’s last name began to assemble themselves in his head like a scrabble hand.

God, it’s so bizarre to think how his thoughts over the last four days have been divided almost evenly between that teenager from Maine and the man in the psych ward upstate. In hindsight, it’s fucking hilarious. He’s spent the last couple days steeping in guilt for spending so much time dwelling on his childhood crush. In fact, one of the reasons why he resisted looking Eddie up is because it somehow felt like cheating on the man waiting for him. Fuck, the gymnastics of it all.

“It’s just a draft,” he says as he hands his phone off to Eddie, their fingertips brushing briefly.

Eddie looks down at the screen, and Richie watches his eyes skim over the words.

_Hey, remember me? Sorry to hit you up out of the blue like this. I know it’s been a really long time. How’re you doing? Life treating you ok?_

_We graduated in what, ’94? So it’s been almost 21 years exactly. Happy birthday by the way!_

Eddie glares up at him.

“You remembered my fucking birthday but couldn’t figure out it was me ’til I spelled it out for you?”

“Hey, you clicked on a Netflix special with my fucking name in the title and didn’t piece it together ’til the receptionist name-dropped me.”

“Fine, that’s fair.”

Eddie holds back a smile as he turns his eyes back down to the screen.

_Anyway, I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. I don’t know why it took me so long to get in touch. I don’t know why we fell out of touch to begin with. It’s weird to think that you’re probably a completely different person by now. I guess I am too, but I still feel the same in a lot of ways._

_Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that you were a really important part of my life. I’m only now starting to realize how much you made me who I am. You were the best part of growing up, and I’ve been missing you a lot lately._

_I’d really like to see you again sometime soon. What city are you in? I travel around for work a lot so maybe we can meet up somewhere down the line._

_Take care,_

_Richie_

Richie already has the entire monologue memorized. He must have spent over an hour piecing it together. Finding the right words, trying to sound earnest without being creepy. Trying to convey how much he missed Eddie without expecting anything of him. Wondering if any of those childhood feelings were reciprocated, or if the subtle signals he received from Eddie were all just in his head.

Clearly they weren’t. And apparently Eddie received his message loud and clear because there are fresh tears running down his cheeks and dripping onto the glass of the phone.

“You whore,” Eddie sighs. “I can’t believe you were planning to cheat on me with me.”

Richie smiles. “Hey, just trying to widen my bases.”

“You were fully prepared to suck this guy’s dick, weren’t you?”

“Only if he was married.”

Eddie lets out a laugh, staring down at the tear-blotted screen.

“Thank you. That’s a great gift.”

“You’re welcome,” Richie says before placing a kiss against his temple.

God, he’s so fucking happy.

Eddie turns the phone over to wipe it on his jeans before handing it back, their fingers brushing again will a small spark of static.

This fucking phone. The phone he’s slept with for the last two weeks like a fucking stuffed animal. Curling up on his couch or bed and staring at it for hours on end, even as his eyes stung and his thumbs grew sore. Second-guessing every text when Eddie didn’t reply within seconds, typing and retyping each response in a futile attempt to get the words exactly right. So scared he’d fuck it up. So scared that the man on the other end was barely tolerating him.

He’s spent the last two weeks trying not to drink or get high out of fear that Eddie would be able to tell. In the blank spaces between their conversations he found himself mindlessly scrolling through Twitter or Reddit in search of something, anything, that would keep him distracted. Cycling through shit on Netflix, wearing the same clothes for four days straight, eating like shit, and trying so goddamn hard to be funny.

God, he was trying so fucking hard.

How can he even conceptualize the range of emotions he’s experienced within the last two weeks? Time hardly feels real anymore. It feels like more has happened in the past two weeks than the last twenty-one years, even though Richie knows that his life since Derry has hardly been boring. It’s been a lot of things, but boring is not one of them. And yet, these last seventeen days have felt like a movie: a sequence of events compressed and edited, a whole story of love, loss, and love again all wrapped up in a neat two hours.

From the giddy joy of falling for someone new, driving his daydreams into overtime. The adolescent anxiety of preparing for a date with his crush while trying not to run up a mental tally of who he’d invite to the wedding. He didn’t even know who this person was, but by the time they reached the equivalent of three coffee dates he was certain that this was the person he was waiting for. This hypochondriac asshole from New York was the one who’d make it all worth it.

He remembers within a single day falling from the high of a hopeful crush to the nauseous dread of caring for a sick partner. Reading Eddie’s texts last Friday morning felt like scrolling through twitter in the aftermath of a tragedy, just bad news on top of bad news with no end in sight. He was counting down the minutes till his flight, so terrified that Eddie would die before he got there. His brain kept assaulting him with viciously morbid scenarios: arriving at Eddie’s house only to be told that his body was already at the funeral home. Or even worse, walking up the stairs and into his bedroom only to find him cold in bed, knowing he died there, scared and alone.

Then on Sunday morning that fear mutated into something grotesque, bursting at the seams like a ruptured cyst. As his phone vibrated with text after text of Eddie’s suicide note, which Richie never fully read because he was busy scrolling back up in search of Eddie’s address, which he frantically read out to 911. He felt trapped. He felt useless. The person he loved was going to hurt himself and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was so far away. He was so far away and there was nothing he could do.

And then those messages started appearing on his screen. The worst things he’s ever heard in his life, even amidst the constant threats and insults that bombard his twitter mentions on a daily basis. He threw up halfway through, his phone still buzzing as the messages kept coming, each one like the kick of a steel toed boot to his teeth. That sound, that ping, that alert of a new message that once gave him an instant hit of dopamine was now worse than the sound of knives scraping against glass. It massacred all his daydreams, all that theoretical happiness that he convinced himself was only a transnational flight away.

Then he crawled into his bathtub with a bottle of whiskey and desperately read through Eddie’s old messages and all the snarky, kind, and wonderful things he said before this nightmare and Richie tried to convince himself that this wasn’t real. That the stranger on the phone couldn’t really mean those things. He had a complete transcript of every word they shared, evidence of what they built together, and it had to be real or Richie just fell for the phone scam of a fucking lifetime.

He wanted to text back to make sure he was okay, but he was so sure that the man on the other end was dead. He was dead and they’d never meet and those last awful texts were the last words they’d ever share. That was the end to their sad little story and how the fuck was he supposed to keep going after that?

After at least seven shots in he began to regret his refusal to call him when he asked. He should have just listened. He should have called him and told him he loved him and rambled about something stupid like he wanted. Then he wouldn’t have to be alone. He sounded so scared of being alone. He could have died peacefully and Richie would have closure that the man on the phone would never respond again, but at least the aftertaste wouldn't be so rancid.

He blacked out not long after that, and awoke a few times throughout the day and night only to drink himself into unconsciousness once again, digging up half-empty bottles from every corner of his house, bougie wine from production companies and liquor from the weddings of people who were now divorced.

Then the next morning he awoke to a buzz from his phone, and started sobbing when he saw that it was a text from the man he was so sure was dead.

God, that may have been the most awful experience of his life. Worse than getting his stomach pumped, worse than getting beat up by his landlord, worse the dealing with that fucking clown under Neibolt. Worse than anything his stupidly active imagination could hope to conjure up.

But regardless, he needs to keep a record of it all. Every high and low, he needs to remember all of it. He needs that shit backed up, printed, and bound in leather. They’ve already lost too many memories, and he can’t afford to lose any more. Even the awful shit, they need to keep that too. Because if leaving Derry has taught him anything, it’s that forgetting the bad things doesn't make them go away. They’ll just sit behind the scenes, biding their time until you wake up one morning covered in reopened wounds with no clue how you got them in the first place. Who gave them to you. How long they'll take to heal. 

Plus the clown really crossed a fucking line on this one, and he needs to show the transcript to the others so they all know to beat its ass an appropriate amount.

He shoves the phone in his pocket and decides not to look at it again for the rest of the night. He doesn’t want to be reminded that it exists. He’s thankful that it brought them together, but they’ve long outgrown it. Texting was always just a reminder that they weren’t really together, and each message carried with it a subtle sting of loneliness. The words on his screen taunted him with a taste of intimacy. Half-baked satisfaction and a million details lost in binary code. And now that Eddie’s right in front of him, he can never go back.

That’s over now. They’re finished with that chapter. And there’s no fucking way Richie’s doing long distance because he needs to touch Eddie every day for the rest of his goddamn life.

Fuck, he’ll have to find a way to get Slipper out to New York. She won’t be happy about that.

After putting his phone in his pocket, Eddie reaches for his hand, and Richie actually shudders. It's funny how the simple act of holding another man’s hand is something his body never had a chance to grow accustomed to.

He stares down as Eddie gently laces their fingers together and begins stroking the veins on the back of his hand. The movements of his thumb are almost hypnotic, and Richie’s already so tired he feels like he could fall slack against Eddie’s body right now. He could close his eyes and sleep for weeks. The bed beneath him feels so fucking soft and the thought of putting on his sweatpants and curling up beneath the covers with Eddie in his arms is material worthy of a wet dream.

Before he can make the suggestion, Eddie raises a hand and places it on his cheek, running his thumb through the coarse stubble along his jaw. Richie sighs and leans into it, feeling like he’s being welcomed home.

Then they both lean in slowly, too tired for any proper coordination as their mouth gently meet in the center. They stay like that for a few moments, not even properly kissing, just pressing their lips together like two pre-teens unsure of what’s supposed to happen next. But Richie smiles anyway because his lips are touching Eddie Kaspbrak’s, and how strange is that?

Then Eddie starts moving. Very slowly, opening his mouth barely more than a breadth and tilting his head to the side so they can fit together properly. Their lips separate with a soft pop before drifting together again as they kiss in short increments, the sound of Eddie’s breathing humming through Richie’s head like wind blowing over the ocean.

Richie hasn’t kissed anyone in months. For Eddie it’s been even longer. Richie feels out of practice, even though it never felt like something he needed to practice to begin with. It was just supposed to happen, and whether it felt good or not wasn’t really up to him. It was in the hands of his accomplice. Who they were, how they felt about him, what they were trying to say without words.

And Richie can confidently say that this feels nice. It feels really, really nice.

The tip of Eddie’s tongue grazes his lower lip, prompting Richie to open his mouth wider, touching Eddie’s tongue with his own. He remembers being the lucky soul who got to explain french kissing to Eddie in elementary school, not that he had any personal experience. Fuck, he wishes he could remember the exact look on Eddie’s face. He must have been scandalized, because Richie distinctly remembers him swearing that he’d never do anything like that with anyone. Guess this is a night for a lot of broken certainties.

It’s getting wetter, but just enough that their lips can effortlessly glide against each other, falling into a rhythm that makes Richie feel like they’ve been doing this for a very long time. The intensity has leveled out. The kisses they’re exchanging are so modest they’d be suitable for a wedding. Brief and quiet, but so soothing that Richie can't help but imagine falling asleep like this, drifting off with Eddie pressing kisses to his tired lips.

It’s sweet. So very sweet. And he’s starting to feel warm pulses of arousal despite being far too tired to take things any further. It’s just really, really nice.

“Lie down with me?” Eddie whispers, his mouth no more than an inch from Richie’s own.

“If you insist,” he replies, straying from Eddie's lips so he can kiss along his chin, his cheek, the grainy stubble a sharp contrast to the softness of his lips.

“Take your shoes off,” Eddie mumbles as he pulls away and starts shifting further up the mattress. Richie smiles as he obediently pulls off his sneakers and drops them at the foot of the bed, looking back to see Eddie already lying prone on his back with his mouth slightly open. 

Richie crawls up alongside him and curls against his side, draping an arm over his chest. As hoped, Eddie reaches for his hand and begins stroking a thumb across the wiry hair of his knuckles.

God, he’s so tired. He’s barely slept for the last week. And when he did sleep, it was just an uninterrupted string of nightmares punctuated by muddy flashbacks of that town with three restaurants and half an arcade.

He wants more. He wants to keep kissing, or at the very least take off their shirts. He wants to see Eddie’s body. He wants to see all of him. He wants to sleep naked with him and worry about the rest later.

He wants to take a picture of Eddie like this. Unshaven and exhausted, his eyes barely open, the soft strokes of his thumb growing lazy. This is all Richie ever wanted. Before he could even conceptualize sex, before he could grasp what romantic love entailed, he wanted this.

He remembers that camping trip in fifth grade. They were sharing a tent, as everyone knew they would. It was humid and muggy, so their sleeping bags were left unzipped down to the base. Richie lay there in the darkness, quietly inching closer and closer till he could feel Eddie's breath against his chin. Listening to the mosquitoes buzzing outside, the gentle lap of the lake. In that tranquility, he imagined wrapping an arm around Eddie's waist, holding him, falling asleep with him, but the second Eddie shifted in his sleep, Richie shuddered and rolled back to the other side of the tent, terrified that Eddie would wake up and see how close he was. Then he'd pull away, kick him, tell him he was being weird, avoid him for the rest of school, and tell all the other kids what a freak he was. So no, Richie never followed through on what he wanted. Not ever.

And now he has it, and it’s everything his childhood self could have dreamed.

“You can take a nap if you want,” Eddie mumbles. “I think I have to.”

Richie shifts in closer so he can press a kiss right above Eddie’s ear. Then he slings a leg over Eddie’s own in an attempt to eliminate as much negative space as possible.

He’s still scared there will be nightmares. They don’t seem to have a quota. And he’s scared that the clown will find a way to burrow into their dreams and attack them when they're at their most vulnerable. But as long as they’re not scared, they should be safe. Although by the law of reverse psychology, trying to logic his away around fear might be counterproductive. Especially now that he has so much to lose.

But no, he’s too happy to let fear have its way with him. All the anxieties scratching at his skin are no more than paper cuts in comparison to the earth-shattering terror he felt earlier in the week. Nothing in his past can compare to that fear, and he hopes that nothing ever will again. Not even the summer of 1989 could hold a candle to his visions of Eddie lying dead in a bathtub almost three thousand miles away.

No, he’s not scared. And maybe tomorrow they’ll start contacting the others, and then they’ll have strength in numbers. Their memories will all come back, and then they can reminisce, and plan, and figure out how to take down that shit stain for good so they can all make it to sixty-seven and just fucking relax. And he hopes at that age he'll be able to look back on this night and remember just how happy he was.

God, he’s so fucking happy.

Just then, the obnoxious chime of the marimba ringtone splits through his skull, forcing his eyes to bolt open. It’s not his phone, that’s for sure. It must be Eddie’s. Shit, is Eddie one of those people who uses the default marimba ringtone? That might be a dealbreaker.

“Shit!” Eddie exclaims, his whole body jolting as he quickly rolls to his side and reaches for the phone sitting on the nightstand.

“Hello?” he answers groggily, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Yeah, that’s me. Okay. Yes.”

His tone quickly shifts into something serious, so Richie figures it must have something to do with Myra. He eavesdrops on the half-conversation, trying to piece things together from Eddie’s long pauses and short affirmatives.

“Yes. Okay, thank you. Yeah, I can come up tonight. What’s the address?”

After gathering a bit of momentum, Eddie manages to push himself upright and shift to the end of the bed. Then he stumbles over to the desk and scribbles something on the hotel stationary.

“Okay, I got it. Thank you. What time should I get there? Okay, thanks. Bye.”

Eddie ends the call just as Richie musters enough energy to push himself up against the headboard.

“So what’s the status?” he asks, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses.

“Well, my Zoloft capsules were full of sugar.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. And my Midodrine definitely wasn’t Midodrine, and my vitamin B supplements definitely weren’t what they said on the tin.”

Richie exhales through his nose, both relieved and horrified that everything Eddie suspected turned out to be true. Richie never doubted him for a second, but the confirmation still causes a burst of anger to flare up in his chest.

“So what’s the plan?”

Eddie’s still fiddling with the hotel pen, clicking the tip up and down. 

“They just referred the case to the police up in Hawthorne. They have the grounds for an arrest now, and they want me to come up tonight and give an official statement.”

Richie pauses for a second to catch up with all that, his processing facilities only operating at maybe 30%.

“Should I rent a car?” he asks, even though that’s probably not a good idea considering that he’s still suitably delirious from his half-nap.

“Nah, we can take the train. And you should eat on the way up. You want pad thai or lemongrass chicken?”

“Pad thai,” Richie answers on impulse, then immediately backtracks. “Unless the peanuts will make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not allergic. I’m good,” Eddie says while opening the fridge and pulling out a styrofoam box.

Richie watches him place it on the table before removing his coat from the back of the chair and sliding his arms through the sleeves, and Richie’s so captivated by the movements of his body that he feels like an audience member watching a play.

“You coming or what?” Eddie asks, reaching down to grab one of Richie’s sneakers and toss it at him.

Richie flinches but still manages to catch it in midair. Damn, he’ll really need to stop and get some coffee before getting on the train.

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

He slides on his shoes and ties them up, his brain struggling to guide his fingers through the simple knot he learned in kindergarten. Eddie is already loitering by the door by the time Richie pushes himself up from the bed and makes his way over. Eddie hands him the take-out box, but before reaching for the doorknob, he places a hand on Richie's shoulder, gripping gently at the fabric, that same half-smile on his face.

Then he leans up to give Richie another kiss, followed by a series of smaller pecks that feel like they should come in the aftermath of sex. They’re so sweet that Richie feels a stir of sadness that they might not be able to return to this room till morning.

“Hey,” Eddie whispers, “you know I wouldn’t have made it this far without you, right? You literally saved my life.”

Well, that certainly wakes Richie up.

A few of his synapses snap into alignment as he processes the words that just came out of Eddie’s mouth. Then he just stands there like an idiot, his brain glitching in circles, refusing to spit out a decent reply. What the hell are you supposed to say in response to something like that?

Finally, the words come to him.

“I’m so glad I got to fall in love with you twice.”

That’s as much fluency as he can manage, but it must have been good enough, because he watches Eddie blush and bite at his lower lip.

“Yeah, me too. You made it real fucking easy.”

Richie swallows back the bottomless tears that seem to be taking up permanent residence. He smiles, then raises a hand to cup Eddie’s cheek.

“Thanks. Now tell me, which of my shirts did you jerk off with?”

“Jesus fuck.”

Eddie swats his hand away and reaches for the doorknob.

“No seriously, I still have a couple shirts from high school.”

Eddie’s already pulling open the door and seems ready to slam it shut in Richie’s face.

“Which one was it? Did I wear it a lot?”

Eddie is already out in the hallway, stubbornly acting like he doesn’t know him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks guys!
> 
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